


The White Robe

by BlindTiger



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Blackmail, Corruption, Crime Scenes, Death, Gen, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Novel, Police, Prison, White Robe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 84,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindTiger/pseuds/BlindTiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the future, crime is dealt with quickly and harshly, and the tradition of trial by jury has been rescinded. Magistrates provide speedy and efficient trials.</p><p>Caitlin Kincaid has just turned 18, graduated high school, and she has her whole life in front of her when she attends her best friend's birthday party in the woods. An old flame turns into a fling and when she awakens, she finds her friends dead and she's accused of their murders. There's more going on behind the scenes than she knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to those who already saw this work, I screwed up the formatting and had to post it again. 
> 
> WARNING: This story contains portions of suggestive sexuality and an examination scene that may be triggering for some readers. This story also contains depictions of violence and legal execution. Read at your own risk.

 “For too long has our society stood by and allowed the so-called rights of the prisoners to outweigh the genuine rights of the victims.  No more.  From this day forth, justice shall be swift and merciless.”  
-Unnamed senator, from the declaration of universal justice.

\-------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 1

Caitlin Kincaid drove her car up the long driveway to her friend Amanda’s house.  It had been a rather long drive out, but she was used to it.  Amanda’s family lived way out in what Caitlin’s parents always called ‘the boonies.’  It was a nice place, though, since her neighbors were far enough away that they could listen to music as loud as they wanted without anyone complaining, at least when Amanda’s parents were out of town.

And this weekend, Amanda had the house all to herself.  She’d been a little bummed when her parents had told her that they wouldn’t be around for her birthday party, but Amanda said they’d left some money for her to have a small party, and tonight was the night.  Caitlin smiled when she pulled up around the corner to the yard and saw that she was by far not the first one there.  Cars were scattered to and fro in a haphazard fashion all around the yard.  She recognized every single one of them.  That blue mustang over there was Nathan’s.  He was the football star of the year at Caitlin’s high school.  _Former high school,_ she reminded herself.  She’d graduated just this past year.

And the pink truck off on the far end of the yard was Amanda’s.  Her parents had gotten it for her as an early graduation present, even though she wasn’t slated to finish all her classes for another couple months.  But that was the way Amanda’s parents were.  Once they found something they wanted to do, they didn’t let a little thing like tradition stand in the way of doing it.  So Amanda had gotten her truck even before Caitlin had gotten her car.

She pulled her sporty little two-seater into the lot behind Amanda’s truck, figuring she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.  She frequently spent nights at Amanda’s and she’d told her parents that she might be staying the weekend, just to keep her friend company.  She didn’t, however, tell them that half the high school was going to be here tonight at this party.  What they didn’t know, they couldn’t worry about, and Caitlin’s dad had a habit of worrying incessantly, even about things that he didn’t need to worry about.  And then, when he started worrying, he had this way of working others into his worry until the whole house was worried about the same thing, even if it was some completely off the wall thing.  Like the time he got everyone wondering about if they could survive a tornado.  There weren’t tornadoes here.  The nearest tornadoes were five states away.  The man could make her crazy.

And here he was, not even here, and she was starting the whole cycle even without him.  She shook her head and shut off her car, smiling to herself when the beat of her car stereo was replaced by a softer, deeper bass thudding coming from the house.  Amanda always did have decent taste in music, something they both shared.  It could almost have been the same song, and Caitlin had to stand a moment when she got out of the car to listen.  Nope, not quite, just a bit different. 

She shut her door and turned to check her reflection in the tinted-glass window. Her pale skin was turned a beautiful brown from the summer sun and dark brown hair fell past her shoulders and framed her blue eyes.  Just eighteen and freshly out of high school, she was one of the few girls she knew who honestly thought she looked good.  She was happy with her body, and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of her.  She gave a quick twirl, admiring the deep red dress she’d picked out for the evening.  _Damn, but I’m hot,_ she thought, her grin widening.

Satisfied that she’d be the light of the party, she opened the back door and retrieved Amanda’s birthday present.  She’d looked long and hard trying to find exactly the right present for her best friend.  It couldn’t be just any generic present, either.  Every year, she’d made a special effort to find a variation on one specific theme.  Amanda collected stuffed tiger plush toys.  Caitlin always made fun of her, saying that she needed a real boyfriend instead of a stuffed one, but every year, she managed to find a more unique toy to add to her collection.  This year, she’d found one wearing a sweater with what could almost be a perfect replica picture of Amanda’s new bright pink truck.  She couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried. 

As was her other tradition, though, she’d put the toy in a box inside a box inside a box until the whole thing was almost three feet square.  Then she’d found the biggest, gaudiest bow to put on the top.  With a wicked smile, she reached into her bag in the back seat and pulled out a little novelty gift tag, in the shape of a large phallus, and quickly affixed it to the package.  On the tag, she wrote “To Amanda, hope your next year is as exciting as you could ever hope!”

Laughing, she picked up the box and made her way across the yard to the porch.  Amanda must have been watching her walk up, because the door opened even as she got to it.  The thumping bass line increased in volume and Caitlin’s ears flattened back for a moment as the sound assaulted them. It only took a moment, though, before she’d recovered, and she smiled at her friend.  Amanda was a couple inches taller than her, but her skin was the same sun-bronzed hue and she had the same dark brown hair.  It never failed that they were asked if they were sisters almost every time they were out together.

“Happy birthday, girlfriend!” she yelled over the incredibly loud music.

“Didn’t think you were going to make it,” Amanda shouted in reply, “Almost everyone’s already here!”

“Dad wanted to know everything, as always,” Caitlin rolled her eyes as she offered the well-known and well-derided excuse.  “I told him we were going to get drunk, get stoned and go fuck every old man from here to the coast.”

“I bet he just loved that.”

Caitlin smiled and reached out to give Amanda a birthday hug.  “All right, then.  Where’s all these people you tell me are here somewhere?”

“They’re all over the place.  Go get a beer and you’ll run into at least ten of them.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Caitlin laughed and made her way to the familiar fridge.  The number of nights she’d spent here at Amanda’s house made it almost as familiar as her own.  She knew where the dishes were, where the liquor was, and even where Amanda’s dad kept his porn stash.  The number of nights they’d stayed up after they found that one didn’t need to be counted.  She didn’t really want to know. 

The fridge was fully stocked with about anything she could ever want, and she opted for her old favorite, a hard pear cider.  Someone had already pulled out the bottle opener and had kindly left it on the counter next to the fridge.  Now that she had a drink and she’d handed off her gift, it was time to go find some action.

The living room seemed to be where everything was happening.  Amanda’s dad was an audiophile and he had the entire setup for a stereo, complete with a professional-grade mixing board.  Caitlin laughed as she rounded the corner and found Josh, one of the radio club members, behind the table with the mixer under his paws going to town like some professional DJ.  She lifted her bottle and caught his eye.  “Get some, DJ Blackjack!” she called.  Josh got the nickname from the decks of cards he always used to carry around.  He used to do all kinds of magic tricks, but then someone said he should start a blackjack table and at least make some money.  The name kind of stuck.

“Hey, Caitlin!” Josh called back, “How about some Broken Hearts for the broken heart.” 

Caitlin blushed.  She hadn’t realized that her breakup had become popular knowledge.  She and Hunter Lewis had been dating for a little over a year before they decided to call it quits.  It was amicable enough, they just decided that they didn’t really click, and they went their separate ways.  She was still trying to figure out why she had a bit of the heebie jeebies around him, though.  It was like she could never feel at ease. 

At any rate, she gave Josh a quick flick of the finger, but softened the blow with a pantomimed kiss.  Josh smiled and mimicked picking the kiss out of the air and slapping it on his butt.  Caitlin just rolled her eyes and made her way out the sliding glass door to the pool.  There were plenty of kids out here, too, enjoying the warm early-summer night, some were lounging around on the deck while others were in chairs.  Someone had even gotten bold enough to get into the pool, and it looked like he’d convinced a few others to join him.  It looked like fun, but she wanted to be a bit more loosened up before she decided to hop in with them.  Besides, there was always the hot tub, too.

A cool breeze blew against her back and she made her way to the edge of the porch, looking out over the property behind the house.  There were plenty of places that she’d explored with Amanda a long time ago, including that copse of trees off to the right where she’d first made out with Hunter.  She’d dragged him up here because she knew they’d have the privacy that they wouldn’t have at her house with her dad looking over her shoulder all the time. 

She took a swig of her cider and looked with soft eyes out at those trees.  It wasn’t so much that she missed Hunter, it was more that she missed being with someone.  It was a happy time, and it still hurt to think about it, even if only a little. 

Sighing, she turned to head back into the house and find Amanda so she could get some happier thoughts going.  When she turned around, though, she found herself face to really familiar chest.  Looking up, she shook her head with a little grin.  “Hi, Hunter.”

“I figured you’d be here, Caitlin,” Hunter said.  “How’re you doing?”

Her eyes tracked up the young man’s body, taking in the broad chest that she always enjoyed resting her head on during the lazy days, the thick neck that came from his workout regime in the gym that bordered on obsessive, and the cocky smile just about his square jaw.  She could see the smile on his lips echoed in the deep brown eyes that stared back down at her beneath the close-cropped brown hair.

There was one thing she could always say about Hunter, he was always courteous and he always seemed to care what she was thinking.  That’s what made it so difficult for her to pin down exactly why it was that she felt so odd about him.  “I’m doing okay, Hunter. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve found anyone new yet, huh?”  She could hear a tone in his voice that was one part concern, one part sadness, one part jealousy and one part genuine curiosity.  Damn the dude could say so much with one sentence.

“It’s only been a few weeks, Hunter,” Caitlin said with a chuckle.  She cocked her head to the side and pinched his arm, “What sort of girl do you think I am?”

Hunter returned the smile and bent down so he could be a bit quieter, “I know what sort of girl you are, Caitlin.”

How could he still press her buttons like that?  The sound of his low, growly voice never failed to send shivers down her body.  It brought back images of crumpled sheets and hot nights.  Her breath caught in her throat and she shivered lightly, glaring at Hunter as he straightened back up again. 

“Damn it, Hunter.”

“Still get you going, don’t I?” he asked with a grin.

Caitlin shook her head but she couldn’t deny it.  “You know you do, Hunter.”

Hunter took the bottle of cider from her hand and took a gulp with a self-satisfied smirk.  “Come on.  Let’s dance for a while.”

That familiar feeling of wrongness was back, nagging at the back of her head, but she ignored it.  What could be the harm in dancing with him?  It wasn’t like they were mortal enemies now that they were exes, right?  They were still friends, so a dance between friends would be just fine.  She followed him back into the living room and didn’t miss the look Hunter gave Josh. 

The music dimmed and transitioned seamlessly into the next song.  Caitlin laughed when she recognized it as one of her current favorites.  She’d made Hunter listen to it time after time in the car any time he was with her.  He must have gotten so sick of it, but he put up with her playing it over and over until she’d memorized the words and could sing along with it. 

It wasn’t a slow-dance tune, and she wasn’t in the mood for slow dancing anyway.  Even though they started out as the only ones dancing, soon enough they had a good following going, and by the end of the song, Caitlin had completely forgotten that nagging little doubt in the back of her head. Out of breath and flushed from the dancing, she stumbled off to the couch. 

“You look thirsty.  I’ll get you a refill,” Hunter said, and before she could say anything in return he’d gone off in the direction of the fridge.  It didn’t take him long before he’d returned with another cider.  The first one was doing wonders on her brain already and she couldn’t help but watch his form as he walked away and then back.  His butt was just as cute as ever, and even the most passing glance at the front of his jeans would tell even the most casual observer that he definitely ended up at the good end of the gene pool when it came to that little piece of his anatomy. 

Smiling, she took the full bottle of cider from him and downed half of it in a series of gulps.  It helped the thirst, but it also managed to push her further towards tipsy.  It wasn’t the first time she’d ever been drunk, though, and she knew she had a good bit of the night ahead of her yet.  The music was still going, and so she laughed and dragged Hunter back out to dance some more.  Before long, she was dancing up close to him, grinding hips against hips in a familiar dance.  The smell and the feel of him was safe and familiar, and the alcohol almost sealed the deal. 

Gasping and panting they finally made their way back to the couch and Hunter flopped down, out of breath. Caitlin laid next to him, stretched out with her head on his thigh.  Hunter looked down at her with a familiar gleam in his eye and leaned down to press his mouth against hers.  Even after the weeks apart, the feel, the scent, and the taste were familiar and comforting.  Caitlin returned the kiss with gusto and the kiss continued until finally Caitlin broke away, almost gasping for air.  “My god, Hunter, I don’t know why you always manage to do this to me.”

“Because I’m so damned good looking,” he answered, smiling in that cocky way that she always loved.

Looking up his chest to his face, Caitlin could feel something lighting up inside her and she blushed, grinning.  “Let’s go upstairs, Hunter.  I want to have some fun.”

Hunter’s grin widened and he reached out to take her free hand, “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said.  Laughing he helped her up off the couch and led the way up the stairs to the spare bedroom where Caitlin usually stayed when she slept over with Amanda.

The world was fuzzy around the edges as they made their way up the stairs and into the bedroom. There was the familiar bed in the corner that she spent so many nights before, laughing and joking with her friend before Amanda’s parents finally banged on the door and told them to quiet down and go to bed.

As he took her through the door, Hunter pulled her close and into an embrace, kissing her once again, and they made their way awkwardly into the room, managing somehow to close the door behind them.  Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, the music faded into the background and even the feeling of Hunter’s hands on her body felt distant. 

She could see the room fading, a black tunnel forming at the edge of her vision, and when she next opened her eyes, she could feel Hunter on top of her and she was still locked in his embrace as he moved in between her legs. She was looked around, trying to piece together how she’d ended up naked on the bed with him on top of her, but as she tried to think she started feeling Hunter moving in a way that was so right, and all thoughts of refusal were wiped from her head.  She laid back on the bed and closed her eyes and welcomed the feelings, not even noticing when the world finally faded completely.

She awoke to a pounding on the door and opened her eyes to find herself…on the couch…in the living room.  Her eyes opened even wider and she snapped to almost full awareness when she realized she was completely nude and lying where everyone could see her.  She choked back a scream and with her heart beating almost into her throat, she covered her chest and sat up.  When the dizziness cleared she really did scream.

Around her, scattered throughout the living room were the bodies of her friends.  It looked like six or seven bodies.  Each one was covered in drying blood, and each one was simply lying where it had fallen.  She stood up off the couch and couldn’t stop the continued bout of screaming that worked its way from her throat.  Just when her voice started to falter, the front door blew apart and inward and four black-clad and armored police officers rushed in, weapons at the ready. 

She only had time to scream in an even higher pitch before the first officer turned and lunged at her. Her eyes widened in terror at this huge man coming for her, but she could only stand there, rooted to the ground by some strange force of nature. Catching her by the arm, the officer forced her to the floor, face down.  She felt cold liquid squishing against her skin and her face made a soft, sickly splashing sound when she landed.  Another scream tore at her throat, this one as much frustration as fright.  She couldn’t move her arm, and soon, the officer had the other pulled up behind her back.  She could feel hard plastic zip cuffs fastening around her wrists.  Then the man was up again, and she found herself staring through a puddle of blood looking at a huge kitchen knife she must have been almost standing on top of.  It was unreal, looking like a movie prop just lying there in the congealing red puddle. 

This had to be a dream.  It couldn’t be happening.  She was just drunk and that’s all.  She kept saying that to herself all the while the only sound that came from her lips was a quiet “No, no, no.”   Too shocked to even cry, all she could do was whisper with her eyes fixed on that bloody knife.  She laid there for what seemed like an eternity while the police searched the house.  When they returned, all she could see were their boots while they stood around her.  She focused on one pair, trying to block out the feeling of her friends’ blood puddling against her skin.

“I count seven dead, sir,” the first one said.

“And this one,” came another voice.

“She was standing in front of the knife,” the first voice again.

“Test it,” came a new one.  The new voice had an authority to it, and even through her frightened stupor she could tell it belonged to the leader.

Caitlin watched a gloved hand reach down with a portable scanner.  The red beams caressed the handle on the knife, and then the officer stood up.  She felt her hands behind her being forced open and she could picture those red beams dancing across her palms.

“Palm prints match, sir,” the first voice confirmed.

“Take her.”

“No, wait!” Caitlin yelled, but it made no difference.  Two of the larger police officers picked her up by the shoulders and the knees and dragged her out into the daylight and into the waiting police van.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lead inspector on the Kincaid case, Richard Corbett, begins his investigation.

Inspector Corbett was an older man going on his tenth year with the police force, and he’d seen some gruesome scenes in his time, but the house he just walked into may have them all beat.  The minute he was through the door, the familiar smell of fresh death assaulted his nose.  It was the coppery smell of blood tinged with the faint aftersmell of an outhouse.  That smell always foretold a long, long day.

“What do we have?” he asked the guard at the door.

“Seven bodies, sir, all stabbed.”

“Any suspects?”

“Just one, sir.  We found a young girl in the living room near a knife with her prints on the handle.  She was the only person alive in the house, and she was covered with blood when we found her.  None of it was hers.”

“You got a name on this girl?”

“Yes, sir.  Preliminary identification based on her fingerprints is Caitlin Kincaid.  Eighteen years old, just graduated high school.  Lives in the west hills section.”

Inspector Corbett grunted, “Anything else?”

“Not yet, sir.  She’s at Sisters of Charity getting checked out.”

Corbett nodded and made his way into the living room, taking in the scene with a practiced eye.  Six bodies in this room, all face down.  Every one looked like they bled out, probably from stab wounds.  No one had moved the knife from where they found it and he could still see the outline the girl’s body had made in the blood pool when they’d taken her down. 

Carefully, slowly, he made his way around the room, eyes taking in everything, registering every minute detail.  There was no telling when he’d be called upon to recreate the scene for the magistrates.  There were the bodies, the empty keg overturned in the corner, the broken sliding glass door.  Seeing the glass broken, he made his way over and took a closer look.  The glass had broken from the inside out, which explained the body of a young female lying just outside on the patio, halfway to the pool. 

He reached into his suit coat and pulled out his tablet, bringing up the details Central had relayed to it earlier.  He pointed the camera at her face and took a picture to run through the facial recognition software.  The result came back as Amanda Brighton, the resident of the house.  Amanda’s parents were, according to the intel, out of town on vacation.  Typical teenage party, parents out of town, kids start partying it up, until something went wrong.

Corbett stood up and made his way around the pool, but he didn’t find anything beyond what he’d seen.  He reentered the house and continued his walking inspection, noting the pattern of bloodstains and spatter, the state of the furniture, where things had landed.  There were definitely signs of struggle, but overall it looked like everything had happened very quickly. 

He stopped at the door to the upstairs guest room.  The bed was rumpled and sheets were laying half on the floor.  A quick black light inspection showed stains on the sheets.  The lab techs would test those later and they’d send their findings to his tablet.  Two empty cups lay on the floor by the bed, probably tossed there by the amorous couple.  _Or group,_ he reminded himself.  Groups were in these days, at least according to what he’d been seeing on the news.

As he was walking back down the stairs, the sergeant who had led the entry team walked in the front door, taking his gloves off his hands.  The large, very fit man was tucking the gloves into his belt and looking over the carnage in the living room when he saw Corbett coming down the stairs, and nodded his head in informal greeting.

“Sergeant, what’s the word?” Corbett asked.

“Well, sir, there’s not much,” the sergeant said, “I’ve been down at Charity for the last few hours.  They damn near had to take a chisel to the girl to get through all the blood on her.”

Corbett frowned.  “I take it they didn’t though?”

The sergeant nodded, “Just a couple patches is all, sir.  She had blood from every victim on her.  Some spatter some not.  I think most of it came from this body here, sir.” He indicted the body nearest the knife.  “Probably because that’s where we took her down.”

Corbett nodded, “She say anything?”

The sergeant shook his head.  “Nothin’ yet, sir.  Nurses say she’s probably in shock.”

Corbett nodded again.  Things didn’t add up, and he didn’t like it when things didn’t add up.

“Have them do a drug screen and a full workup.”

“They’re already doing it, sir.  They’re also doing a rape kit.  Nurse said she’d been sexually active before all this happened.”

“All right.  Get me those results as soon as you have them.”

“You got it, sir.”

The sergeant saluted and headed out the door, no doubt back to the hospital.  There wasn’t anything new Corbett could learn from the scene that the crime scene boys couldn’t tell him, so he decided to get out of their way and let them do their job.

On the way out, he tried to piece together in his head just how an eighteen year old girl had managed to stab seven people to death. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin is examined for evidence and meets a very unpleasant officer.

White walls.  That’s what made it through her mind as she stared at the wall beside her bed.  Her room was floor to ceiling white, spotless, and the smell of antiseptic almost burned her nose.  It was the smell of sick and dying people, the smell of medicine. 

The staff had taken blood, skin, and about every other kind of swab, sample, or vial they could possibly take from her, then they left her dressed in a hospital gown handcuffed to the hospital gurney with two officers outside her door and another inside the room with her.  Despite her repeated requests to be able to speak with her parents, she still hadn’t been given a phone. 

Tears threatening behind her eyes, she turned and looked at the officer sitting next to her bed.  The man was larger than any she’d ever seen and his bulk took up more room than the chair offered.  The man’s muscles under the uniform shirt made the fabric look much too thin.  He looked bored, sitting in the chair by the bed with his face buried in a magazine.  She couldn’t read the title, but that wasn’t what she wanted to know right now, anyway.

“Umm…Officer?” she asked, voice breaking slightly, “Have you heard from my parents?”

“No,” he answered simply.  Then he dropped the magazine to his lap and looked at her.  She shivered at the look in his eyes, it was one of calm and quiet competence, but something lurked there under the professional look, it was a glint of someone who enjoyed what he was doing.

Caitlin paled and shrunk back a bit from that glare, but she had to ask, she had to know.  “Do…do you know…” she was having trouble getting the words out, “Did someone call them?”

“Not my job, girl.”  He shook his head, and for a moment she saw a look of contempt cross his face.  “Someone’ll tell ‘em some time, don’t you worry.”  The wolf laughed and gestured to the TV screen in the corner, “Or they’ll see it on the news.”

Caitlin looked up and gasped as she watched footage showing her being dragged out of the house by the officers.  She was completely naked on the news and everyone was going to see it.  She shut her eyes and turned her head away, blushing furiously. 

“What’s the matter, girl?  Don’t all you kids wanna be famous?”  The man laughed and went back to reading his magazine. 

After a few minutes, the orderly came into the room with a tray of instruments.  When he got closer to the bed, Caitlin’s heart started to race.  She recognized the instruments that were on that tray, down to the metal speculum laying there in its paper wrapper.  She knew exactly what was coming.  “Wait!” she cried, “I don’t want that exam.”

Tears flowed freely down her face when the officer answered from beside the bed, “It’s not about what you want, girl.  It’s about evidence.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Caitlin insisted through a throat thick with held-back sobs.

“In that case,” the officer said, “Don’t you want us to find whoever it was who offed your friends?”  He said the last word with contemptuous emphasis.

Caitlin couldn’t think of anything to respond with.  Of course she wanted them to find whoever did it, but this?  This was…this was horrible.

The orderly walked to the end of the bed and lowered it so Caitlin’s backside was almost hanging off, then pulled the stirrups out of their pockets.  He gave Caitlin an apologetic look and lifted her feet one at a time into the stirrups.  He draped the gown over her knees to give her a bit of privacy before he left the room, leaving her in that vulnerable position. 

Caitlin wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear.  She squirmed on the bed, trying to make the whole thing less exposing, but she didn’t have any luck.  Shortly after the orderly left, a large, rotund male doctor sauntered into the room.  He didn’t address Caitlin, just looked past her to the officer.

“Officer…” the doctor paused for a moment to read the name plate on the man’s chest, “…Sinclair.  I assume you have to remain?”

Sinclair nodded and the doctor mirrored him, then reached out to pull the exam stool closer.  Once he had everything set up just right, he settled himself right up between Caitlin’s legs.  Caitlin squirmed, trying hard to resist her instinct to close her knees.  She knew it wouldn’t do any good, anyway, Sinclair would just force them back open again, and from his demeanor so far, he wouldn’t be gentle about it.

The big wolf stood up and frowned down at the doctor, then lifted Caitlin’s hospital gown up and off her knees so he could watch the procedure.  Sinclair didn’t realize or more likely didn’t are that he’d flung the gown up so far that Caitlin was completely exposed from the chest down.  She started to protest, but Sinclair shot her a look that said “just try it,” and she simply turned her head to the side and stared at the white wall. 

She closed her eyes and tried to think of something, anything happy that would take her away from this place and this time, but nothing came to mind, she could only go back over waking up on the couch, and the image of that bloody kitchen knife. 

She squeezed her eyes shut as the exam went on, trying to fight back the tears in her eyes.  Eventually, the battle was lost, and they leaked down her cheek to pool under her face on the paper-covered mattress.

After what seemed like an eternity of laying there while the doctor collected his swabs and samples, the doctor packed up his instruments and wheeled the table out into the hallway, not bothering to close the door or curtain, and not bothering to take Caitlin’s legs out of the stirrups. 

A quiet, whispered conversation in the direction of the door told Caitlin that the officers outside the door were having an enjoyable view.  She pulled her feet out of the stirrups and pushed herself up in the bed as much as she was able, drawing her legs up to her chest, but unable to do anything about the gown pooled around her neck with her arms still handcuffed to the bed.

As she rolled over on to her side, she caught the look on Sinclair’s face, and the hunger and malice that she saw behind his eyes started her shivering uncontrollably.

Finally, the orderly returned and put the bed back together.  He gave Sinclair a defiant look as he adjusted Caitlin’s gown over her body.  There was little he could do, but he could make his displeasure known at least in that glance.  The orderly patted the fabric down around Caitlin’s body and then left the room, careful to close the curtain and the door behind him. 

Sinclair sat his bulk back down in the chair and picked up his magazine.  He leaned close to Caitlin’s ear, muzzle almost touching, “You’ve got a pretty pussy, pussycat.”

She said nothing, just stayed lying in a ball on the bed, quietly sobbing to herself while Sinclair opened his magazine laughing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coverup begins to emerge.

Two men in dark suits opened the door to the laboratory office and stood stock still, staring across the desk at the pathologist until he noticed them and looked up.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked.

“We’re here about the Caitlin Kincaid case,” the larger man said. 

“Oh, yes. I’m just going over the slides now.”  The pathologist gestured to his microscope.

The smaller man reached into his coat and pulled out a plain white envelope.  He placed it on the desk and gently slid it across with one finger.

“Mister Lewis wants to make sure that you get the test right,” said the larger one.

The doctor opened the envelope and his eyes widened, then he looked up with an angry frown on his face.

“My integrity is not for sale.  Not to Mister Lewis or anyone else.”

“You might want to rethink that, Doc,” the big man said with a sigh. “He thought you might be…hesitant, so he told us to remind you that he still has a marker on you.”

The pathologist paled, “He said no one would know.”

The man nodded, “And no one has to, doc.  Just make sure you get the right results on those tests.  We don’t want Mister Lewis to be embarrassed, do we?”

“N-no, I don’t suppose we do.”

“Good.  Keep the money, doc.  Send your wife on vacation.  Hell, take that cute little piece of ass you’re fucking around with on a cruise.”  The men turned to the door and the larger one looked over his shoulder, “Either way, have a nice day, doc.”

Still pale, the doctor watched the door close behind them, then turned to his microscope and then to his computer.  He took a deep breath and reached out to hit the DELETE button.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin arrives at the prison. She's processed and she learns what fate she faces.

By the time the van pulled up outside the prison, Caitlin was so sick with worry that she didn’t even think she could walk.  She looked up from where she was sitting to the front seat and the back of Sinclair’s big head.  The officer was studiously ignoring her for the time being, and after the experience back in the hospital, Caitlin was glad for small favors.

Caitlin could see the large complex as they were passing it, and by now the only things that dominated the view out the windshield were the imposing plain brick walls of one of the buildings.  It was perfectly square with windows spaced exactly evenly throughout its surface.  The windows were thick glass with heavy bars covering the outside.  Her eyes widened as the got closer and closer and she realized just how large this one building was.  From the roadway, she’d seen an entire complex surrounded by nothing but open fields that were divided by high fences.  If this was just one building, how many people could they fit in this whole complex?  The thought made her head spin.

Sinclair stopped the van and got out.  She watched him stride up the loading-dock entrance and start speaking with someone in a similar uniform.  She turned her head away to look out the side window, thinking that by now her father was probably worried sick and driving her whole family into an anxiety attack.  He had to have seen the news, and she knew that by now they would have released her name to the world.  She felt a kinship even this far away, because she wasn’t too far from a panic attack herself. 

Sinclair had said little after the examination was done.  It wasn’t long after the doctor left that the staff had given them the okay to leave.  The orderly had been at least nice enough to button the hospital gown around her as she left so her backside wasn’t hanging out all the way to the van.  They’d taken the back way out and hadn’t been stopped by any news crews or cameras.  She couldn’t tell if that annoyed or pleased Sinclair.  It seemed to be both, like he didn’t want to deal with the hassle, but he was kind of disappointed that his charge wouldn’t be further humiliated. 

The opening of the door in front of her face surprised her and she flinched back as Sinclair reached into the van and just about hauled her out by her shoulder.  “Come on, girl,” he said, “we’re holding up traffic.”

Caitlin managed to find her footing before she fell on her face, but Sinclair pushed her forwards at a pace she wasn’t used to moving.  All her attention for the moment was simply put into keeping up with him and not falling down.  The little attention she had left was focused on keeping her legs from giving out under her, they were shaking so badly. 

The man Sinclair had been talking to was joined by three others, large, intimidating and armed with large riot sticks.  _All this for me?_ she thought to herself.  The four guards stood stock still on the dock, watching her with wary eyes as Sinclair led her into the building.  Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to look any of them in the eye, choosing instead to simply hang her head against her chest and keep her eyes upon the ground, not wanting to challenge them or bring any further unwanted attention to herself.  Every one of them had the same look on their face as the one guiding her in, and he was bad enough.

Inside the door, though, there was a lone female guard, dressed in the same uniform as the men outside, subtly different than the one Sinclair wore.  She stood slightly taller than Caitlin but not by much, and her stature was smaller than her male counterparts, although she was still more muscular than Caitlin.  The name tag on her shirt read “Orfeo.”  The female guard looked Caitlin over with a professional eye.  Caitlin didn’t seem to get the same feeling of malevolence that she got from Sinclair, more a detached attention that spoke of something she did every day and that Caitlin’s arrival was nothing more interesting than answering the phone or filling out paperwork.  Caitlin caught a quick change in her expression, though, when she looked over her charge’s shoulder at Sinclair.  It was clear from the small flash of expression that this Orfeo didn’t care much for Sinclair either.

“Sinclair,” Orfeo said, “I was expecting you twenty minutes ago.  Did you decide to take the scenic route?”

Sinclair favored her with a sarcastic grin, “Melissa, you know that I never take the long way when I’m expecting to see you.”

“Can it, Sinclair.  This the Kincaid girl?”

Had Caitlin not been so singularly focused on keeping her legs steady and her eyes from involuntarily tearing up, she might have actually smiled as this new lady told off her tormentor.  As it stood, though, she did manage to lift her head ever so slightly, wanting to get a bit of a better look at the guard.

Orfeo didn’t seem to notice or care about the change in Caitlin’s demeanor, but simply kept her glare focused on Sinclair, daring him to be a smart ass. 

“Yeah, this is Kincaid,” Sinclair said, obviously not willing to brave the other officer’s wrath.

“I trust nothing…untoward happened between the hospital and here?  Nothing I’d need to officially report.”  Something in her voice made Caitlin realize that she wasn’t speaking just symbolically.  Sinclair must have a history, something Orfeo didn’t approve of.

“She’s as untouched as she was when they let us out of the hospital,” Sinclair said.  “Anyway, why do you care?  Not like I ain’t gonna be seein’ her again real soon.”  Something about the grin on Sinclair’s face made Caitlin’s heart jump into her throat and hang there, making her want to gag, or throw up, or some combination of the two. 

Orfeo merely deepened her glare and took a step forward.  She put her paw on Caitlin’s shoulder and gently pulled her away from Sinclair.  “You do what you like with the bath toys, Sinclair, but until they’re formally charged and sentenced, they’re my responsibility, and I will not see any harm come to them.”

_Bath toys?_ Caitlin wondered, W _hat the hell is she talking about?_   She couldn’t muster up the courage to ask.  She was in enough trouble as it was, and all she wanted to do was get through the next steps with as little trouble as possible.  If she was cooperative and didn’t make a scene, maybe they’d finally let her call her dad.

A wave of nausea ran through her body when she thought about her father.  She could picture them in her mind’s eye, clustered on the couch in front of the TV, maybe with the phone nearby hoping for word, worried sick, maybe calling neighbors, hospitals, the police station, even the television station.  Her father was probably frantically trying to call in every favor he’d ever accumulated.  Her heart ached, almost a physical pain against her chest and finally her legs wouldn’t keep her standing any more, and she faltered against Orfeo. 

Orfeo seemed to be used to her charges having trouble, and she managed to catch Caitlin as she fell, keeping her from hitting the floor.  She simply pulled her against her body and eased her down a bent knee until she sat on the floor.  Orfeo gently put her hand between Caitlin’s shoulder blades and guided her head down between her bent knees. 

“Don’t you throw up on my nice clean floor, girl.”  Orfeo’s voice was business-like and professional, and as strange as it was, Caitlin actually appreciated it.  If she had been coddling or motherly, Caitlin probably wouldn’t have been able to hold it together and would have dissolved in a puddle of sobbing and wailing right there on the floor.  In front of Sinclair, it would have been excruciating, and she may have actually died of humiliation. 

But the stern voice and apparent disregard for her feelings cut through everything, and she found herself better able to actually focus.  After a minute of heavy breathing, she managed to choke back the lump in her throat and not long after, her shaking legs stilled.

“Looks like you’ve done enough work on this one Sinclair.  You can go.” Orfeo said.  She reached into the pouch on her belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Sinclair.

Sinclair looked for a minute like he was going to argue, but instead shook his head, took the handcuffs, then turned and walked out the door.  Orfeo watched him leave with a frown on her face, then reached down and wrapped an arm around Caitlin’s back and under her shoulders.  With a practiced ease, the guard got the girl to her feet and held her there for a second, making sure she wasn’t going to fall and face plant on the concrete floor.

“You’re all right, girl.” Orfeo said, voice still all business.  “Let’s go.  We’ve got tons of paperwork to do and I don’t want to be here all night.”

She led Caitlin through the door at the far end of the room and into the next room.  Caitlin was expecting something like this.  It was a plainly furnished shower room, completely tiled in some sort of industrial blue tile with an open shower on one side and a locker-room bench bolted to the floor on the opposite side.  There was no curtain between the shower and the room, nothing to block the view, and on the bench was a simple light blue jumpsuit, unfolded and laying over the metal surface.  On top of the jumpsuit was a simple pair of white cotton briefs, a white sports bra and a pair of white socks.

While she made no attempt to be overly gentle about anything, Orfeo wasn’t obviously trying to be horrible like Sinclair was.  She unlocked the handcuffs, and she helped Caitlin out of the hospital gown, carefully not noticing the red patches on her arms and legs where evidence had been collected earlier in the morning.  Even with the practiced non-attention, Caitlin couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable and exposed, barefoot and naked in a strange room with a strange person watching over her.

Orfeo pointed to the shower, “You’re only supposed to have ten minutes, girl, but you’re a little messier than most of the girls who come in, so I’ll give you twenty.”  She gave Caitlin a gentle push towards the shower.  “Make sure you get all that blood out of your hair.  Wouldn’t do to have you contaminating the bunk.”

Caitlin stood in the center of the room shivering for a moment before she finally took some tentative steps to the end of the room with the shower head sticking out of the wall.  Step by step she willed her feet to move.  She didn’t know how long it would be until she had another chance to shower, and she had to admit that the dried blood in her hair and on her skin itched something awful.  Saying a quiet prayer of thanks, she finally managed to work her way over to the faucet without her legs giving out.  She was surprised by how quickly the water warmed up when she turned on the tap, slightly happy that she didn’t have to waste any of her precious little time waiting for warm water.

The nozzle on the shower head shaped the water into what felt like a jet engine blast and propelled it against her skin with a force she’d not experienced before and she had to grit her teeth as the needle-like spray stung against the freshly scraped skin.  Still, though, it was warm and it was just a little comforting.  She could almost close her eyes and imagine herself back at home. 

She didn’t let her mind wander too far in that direction.  She still wasn’t through this whole thing yet, and she knew that if she let herself go it would be a long time before she finally came back.  So she closed her eyes tightly and focused only on the water against her skin until she’d managed to control the welling inside.  After that, it was a simple matter to find the little scrub brush with disinfectant soap and start scrubbing. 

She didn’t know how long she was in the shower, but she suspected that Orfeo hadn’t kept track either.  She was scrubbing and scrubbing, and for a few minutes, she even managed to forget the ever watchful eye of her guard companion.  Once she’d finally managed to get the last bit of blood out of her hair, she felt all over looking for spots that she’d missed, and then turned off the tap, watching the pink tinged water circle down the drain. 

When she looked up, she was met with the sight of Officer Orfeo holding out a towel for her, still a professional lack of expression on her face.  “Dry off, but do not dress yet.”

Caitlin nodded and took the plain, rough, white towel from the guard.  It was just barely large enough for her to use, like a loaned gym towel, not large enough to completely encircle her body, and just barely enough to contain all the water.  By the time she was done toweling off, the towel was soaked and near dripping on the floor.  She laid the towel across the metal bench and then looked back up at Orfeo, who motioned her to the corner of the room behind the bench on the opposite side of the shower.

“Hands on the wall, and spread your legs a little wider than your shoulders, please,” Orfeo said.  Caitlin noticed that while it wasn’t necessarily a nice tone, the obvious order was at least phrased as a request.  She complied immediately, placing the palms of her paws on the cold tile of the wall.  She spread her legs as far as she thought she should and jumped a bit when she felt Orfeo’s hard leather boot nudging her ankles just a little further apart.

From behind her, she could hear Orfeo donning a pair of latex gloves.  She closed her eyes as the memories from earlier in the day assaulted her brain and without her thinking, her knees began to close together.  She felt the guard’s paw on the back of her neck and she jumped, squeezing her eyes shut while her legs shook beneath her.

“Look, girl,” Orfeo said, speaking from far enough behind that Caitlin didn’t feel any more threatened that she already was, “I’ve got to do this, but I’ll make it as easy as possible.  Just stay still and it’ll be all over.”

Caitlin scrunched her eyes further closed and nodded, trying to keep the tears contained behind her eyes and failing.  Her whole body trembled beneath that steady paw on her neck.  She tried to draw a deep breath and force the fear down, but she wasn’t very successful.  All she could do was to stand there trying not to wet herself while Orfeo began to pad down every inch of her body with a professional tact.  Front, back, arms and legs, fingers combing through the hair on her head and checking every crevice and possible hiding place. 

Then she nearly lost control when she felt Orfeo’s hand reach up between her legs, two fingers searching for anything hidden within her body.  She heard Orfeo’s voice behind her, “I’m sorry about this, girl, but it’s protocol.”  It was enough, though to start up the sobs, and Caitlin slumped to the floor of the shower room and drew her legs up to her chest, balling herself up in the corner and she sobbed quietly. 

She clenched her eyes shut, willing it all to be over, willing her father to be standing right outside the door where she could run to him and he could hold her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that he loved her and would take her home to her bed and her family.  But she had no such luck.  When she opened her eyes and cleared the tears, she found herself looking up at Officer Orfeo’s blank face, watching her patiently with her paws behind her back.

“Are you okay now?” she asked when Caitlin opened her eyes.

Caitlin shook her head, but Orfeo didn’t seem to notice. The guard simply knelt down beside her and again helped her to her feet with an arm around and under her shoulders.  Caitlin managed to retain her feet under her and didn’t need to lean on Orfeo too much, but she was still grateful when the guard set her down on the bench and let her be for a moment.  When she felt she could move without ending up back on the floor, she reached out and grabbed the pair of briefs off the pile of clothing next to her.  They were rough, generic cotton and they felt strange and unfamiliar on her body.  The bra was the same way.  Of course, when she thought about it, it made sense.  Who wanted to spend any sort of money on people in jail, right?

Underwear donned, she slid her feet into the blue jumpsuit and stood up, pulling the upper half over her body until she could zip the long zipper that ran almost from the crotch to her neck.  The jumpsuit was loose around her body but not so loose that it restricted anything or got in the way.  Jumpsuit zipped, she pulled the socks onto her feet, and once she was dressed, she spared another glance at Officer Orfeo.

Orfeo seemed not to have moved the entire time, simply stood there at parade rest with her eyes not moving from Caitlin, a bored expression on her face.  Seeing that her charge was dressed and ready, she pulled the set of handcuffs back out from the case on her belt.

“Turn around and put your hands behind you again,” she said, holding the cuffs loosely in her hand.

Caitlin complied and only a moment passed before she felt the cold metal once again encircling her wrists.  Her shoulders sagged, but she kept her head up and waited until Orfeo had laid a hand on her shoulder before she started moving through yet another door on the far side of the room. 

The room through the next door looked like a small office with four desks, one in each corner.  Each desk had its own computer monitor with an office chair on one side and a straight-backed metal chair with no arms bolted to the floor on the other side of the desk.  Orfeo guided Caitlin to the furthest desk, the one closest to what Caitlin knew would be the next door she’d be guided through, and sat her down on the metal chair, then walked around the desk to take her own seat.

It took a minute for the computer to wake up and for the guard to enter her information.  When everything was up and running, Orfeo looked over the top of the monitor at Caitlin and started in.

“Name, girl?” she asked.

“Caitlin,” her voice faltered and broke as she spoke.  Her mouth was dry and she realized she’d been panting with stress.  “Caitlin Kincaid, ma’am,” she finally managed to answer.

“Middle name?”

“Catherine.”

“Date of birth?”

“May second, twenty one twelve, ma’am.”

Orfeo stopped typing for a moment and looked over the top of her monitor at Caitlin.  “Look, Kincaid.  Enough with the ma’am’s.  You just be polite and respectful and we won’t have a problem, okay?”  She almost managed a bit of a grin, “The girls here call me Momma Bear.”

Caitlin nodded.  She wondered if she could remember not to use the honorific her father had always taught her to use, but she’d try. 

“All right, then.  So that makes you eighteen?” Orfeo continued.

“That’s right.”

Orfeo took a few moments to type, her attention completely focused on the screen.  A high-pitched screaming permeated from the far door and Caitlin jumped in her seat, making the handcuffs rattle against the back.  Orfeo didn’t seem the least bit concerned, merely continued her typing. 

After a minute of reviewing data Orfeo reached into a drawer and pulled out a small camera.  She attached it to the computer with a cable and pointed it at Caitlin.  “Please look into the camera.”

Caitlin complied and couldn’t help flinching at the bright flash.  While she was blinking away the spots, Orfeo put the camera back in a drawer and went back to her typing.  Caitlin had nothing to do but sit there, looking around the room.  She tried to keep her thoughts off everything that had happened, or everything that might happen.  It left her very little to think about. 

Thankfully, Orfeo finished her data entry about the time the crushing despair was settling in.  She turned off the monitor, stood up and made her way back around the desk to help Caitlin back to her feet.  “All right, that’s it for now.  Let’s get you settled.”

She turned Caitlin towards the far door and together they made their way through it.  On the other side was exactly what Caitlin had been expecting.  This was the prison proper and she could have almost predicted what it would look like from the outside.  The room they entered stretched three stories and was in a square around a central courtyard.  Directly across from the door they entered was a door through the other wall.  All along the inside of the hollow square, cells lined the walls, each a very small space with only a bunk and a combination toilet and sink inside.  There looked to be barely enough room to even turn around in the cells. 

Along the outside wall on the first floor were offices and other accessory rooms.  On the two other floors above her, the outside wall was broken only by the heavy glass and barred windows she’d seen from the outside.  There were no cells along the outside wall.  Walkways allowed access to the cells along the inner wall of the upper two stories. 

Orfeo walked Caitlin down the main hallway to the first staircase and up to the second floor.   All the cells on the bottom floor were full of other inmates, all dressed in the same blue jumpsuit and white socks.  As they walked, some of the furs cat-called to Caitlin, but incredibly, they stopped at the slightest look from Orfeo.  In the cell by the stairs, a small, mousey girl stood with her hands on the bars, watching Caitlin walk by with Orfeo.  As they passed, she made a gesture, spreading two fingers on either side of her mouth and drew her tongue up between them.  Orfeo stopped and looked at her. 

All it took was a look, and the tough looking girl dropped her eyes.  “Sorry, Momma Bear,” she muttered.

“Don’t apologize to me, Daisy,” Orfeo answered.

“Sorry, new girl,” she said, blushing.

Orfeo turned her look to Caitlin.  “Well, Kincaid?”

Caitlin stuttered, looking between Orfeo and the girl behind the bars.  “Um…that’s okay,” she said, wondering just what Orfeo was all about.

Orfeo nodded but didn’t keep going just yet.  “Kincaid, this is Daisy.  Daisy’s here for shoplifting, and she’ll be going home next week.”  The guard glared at Daisy, “Daisy, be cool with Kincaid.  She’s had a hard day.”

Daisy nodded and walked back to her bunk.  She sat there watching as Orfeo marched Caitlin up the stairs to the second floor.

They walked around the walkway to the furthest point on the second floor from the entrance and stopped in front of an empty cell.    

“This one’s yours, Kincaid,” Orfeo said as the door opened.

She guided Caitlin inside and waited until the door closed.  “Back up to the bars.”

Caitlin did as she was instructed and soon felt the handcuffs being unlocked.  She rubbed her wrists and turned around.  Orfeo was finally giving her a soft smile when she leaned a bit closer to the bars and said, “Don’t let them scare you, girl.  They’re just as scared as you are.”

Caitlin nodded, but didn’t know if she believed her.  Daisy didn’t seem scared.  But then again, she was due to leave soon, so maybe that gave her a bit more courage than the others.  She finally mustered up what little courage she had left.

“Momma Bear?” she asked.

Orfeo nodded, “What do you need, girl?”

“Do you know if anyone called my parents?”

Orfeo frowned, “They were supposed to do that at the hospital, but I wouldn’t put it past Sinclair to ‘forget’ that little detail.”  She nodded again, “I’ll make sure they know where you are.”

That little bit of kindness almost broke Caitlin and she managed a small smile even through the trembling lips.  “Thank you.”

Orfeo wasn’t done, though and she waited for Caitlin to regain her composure.  “Caitlin Kincaid.  It is my duty now to inform you that you are being held under suspicion of seven counts of murder.  You, as the accused, have the right to stay silent during any questioning.  However, should you choose to do so, that fact will be noted in your arraignment and subsequent trial should formal charges be brought.  Do you understand?”

Caitlin couldn’t speak as once again the reality of her situation crashed in upon her and she merely nodded. 

“Furthermore, Miss Kincaid, the investigator assigned to your case is Inspector Richard Corbett.  He has been investigating the allegations and will meet with you in no more than twenty four hours from now.  At that time, a formal decision will be made whether to bring charges or dismiss the case.  Should charges be brought, you will remain here for the duration of the trial and any further sentencing.”

Orfeo sounded bored, and it was obvious she’d memorized this whole speech.  _How many times has she given it?_ Caitlin wondered. 

“Do you understand everything I have said to you, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin nodded again.

“Very well.  You will be provided with further clothing and a selection of hygiene items for your personal use.  Inmates are given two hours of yard time every day and you will be expected to adhere to standards of good conduct while you are incarcerated in this facility.  Any behavior inconsistent with good conduct will be dealt with quickly and harshly.”  Orfeo took a breath and expression returned to her face.  “Now that that’s out of the way, if you need something, call for me.  The other guards will answer if I’m not here.”

Caitlin couldn’t tell just yet if she liked Orfeo or not, but so far, she couldn’t complain about her professionalism.  She nodded again and watched as Orfeo turned and walked down the walkway, listening to her footsteps dwindle, hearing some soft words and a bit of laughing as she passed the cells on her way down. 

She stood for a while in the middle of the cell until she simply couldn’t stand still any longer. She crossed the small area to the window set into the wall and looked out.  As she suspected, there was a central courtyard and her window looked out into it.  There were bars set into this window as well, but the heavy glass could be opened from the inside to allow a bit of fresh air into the cell.  At the moment it was open and a light breeze flowed through, just enough to ruffle the hair hanging over her forehead. 

The courtyard outside consisted of a small, grassy, central area surrounded by a high fence.  In the exact center of the central area stood a large, white, metal pole. The fence to that area had only one gate directly across from what Caitlin suspected was the door she’d seen earlier when Orfeo led her into the main complex.  Around the central grassy area there was a large recreational space.  Some of it was taken up with sporting equipment, like a basketball hoop, and throughout the rest were scattered weight and fitness equipment, picnic tables, and a couple metal benches bolted into the ground against the building wall.

It looked like pretty much every prison yard she’d ever seen on TV, except for the bit in the center.  Looking out over it now, Caitlin noticed that there was a solitary figure kneeling next to the pole.  It was a girl who looked shorter and a bit older than Caitlin.  She could make out her short red hair as a stark contrast to the dark green grass.  The girl was chained to the pole with a large, heavy-gauge chain fastened to a collar around her neck.  The other end was locked to a ring on the pole.  She was dressed only in a stained, dirty white robe.  The robe hung almost open in the front, but from this angle, Caitlin couldn’t tell if she was nude beneath it or not.  She didn’t really want to know, when she thought about it.  The girl merely knelt in the grass with her chin on her chest.  Caitlin could see her face and the expression upon it sent chills down her spine.  There was such a wealth of sadness and fear on that face that it made Caitlin’s eyes water in sympathy. 

Caitlin jumped away from the window, almost afraid she’d been caught doing something wrong when she heard a quiet voice.  “Hey, new girl.”  It sounded like it was coming from the next cell over.  The girl in that cell must have her window open as well.

“Um…” Caitlin wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be talking with anyone or not, but it seemed okay.  “You mean me?”

“Yeah, you.  You’re the only new girl here.”  The girl giggled, “At least you are now.  I was the new girl until you got here.”

Caitlin almost wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. 

“So, murder, huh?  You that girl they showed on the news?” the girl asked.

“I guess so,” Caitlin said.

“That’s some pretty heavy charges, girl.  So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Kill seven people.  What else would I be asking about?” the girl’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“I…I don’t remember.”  Caitlin was shocked to finally admit it.  Had she killed them?  Everything was a blank after she and Hunter were in bed together.  Could she have gotten up, murdered everyone and then fell back to sleep on the couch?

“I hope you remember soon,” the girl said. 

Caitlin returned her attention back to the courtyard.  “Who’s that down there?”

“You mean the bath toy?” the girl’s voice dripped sarcasm.

Caitlin frowned, “I heard Sinclair say that.”

“Don’t even talk about that bastard in here, new girl.  There ain’t no way to describe him that doesn’t insult whatever you’re comparing him to.  I’d say he’s a pile of shit, but I think I’d rather roll around with the pile of shit.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened at the obvious vehemence.  She wasn’t too fond of Sinclair herself, and it seemed like she had gotten off light.  “Okay, okay.  Won’t talk about him.”

“All right.” Caitlin could almost hear the girl’s sigh.  “Anyway, they call them ‘bath toys’ but the official name is ‘condemned.’  That girl down there’s got a death sentence.”

Caitlin drew a sharp breath and looked again at the figure in the white robe.  “What did she do?” she asked.

“They say she murdered two people when she was robbing a convenience store.”  The girl’s voice held a subtle tone that said she was only telling the official story.

“But you don’t think so?” Caitlin asked.

“Does she look like she could kill anyone?” the girl asked in return.

Caitlin looked again, this time harder.  The white robed girl might have been a little stockier and stronger than Caitlin but if she was, it wasn’t by much.  “Not really.”

“Yeah, so they say she did it.  That’s what counts, though.”

“So, what, they just leave her there?” Caitlin asked.

“Nah,” the girl said, “The condemned, they take them away, put them in that white robe, only a clean one, right?  They put them in that robe then leave them out in one of the courtyards.  When you’re condemned, they don’t consider you a person any more.  They call them ‘bath toys’ because someone said the robe looked like a bathrobe and the ‘toy’ part…well, the guards like to amuse themselves by playing with them.”

The girl said all this like it was matter-of-fact, not shocking, just a fact of life. 

“And then what?” Caitlin asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

“They stay out in the yard for six days.  On the seventh, they get everyone out to watch while they shoot them.”

Caitlin’s heart felt as though if it beat any faster it would take off out the window without her and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.  She managed to turn herself so when she sat down, it was on her bunk.  This couldn’t be happening.  She didn’t kill anyone, and if she couldn’t remember, would they put her out there, in that white robe? 

Panic set in and her stomach heaved.  She barely made it to the toilet before she lost what very little she still had in her stomach.  She kept heaving, though, dry heaves that brought up nothing, did nothing to clear her head.  Vaguely at the edge of her hearing she heard the girl calling for Momma Bear, but she couldn’t stop.  When she finally finished retching, she could feel hear a low, mournful keening sound from somewhere nearby.  It grew until it drowned out even the sound of her cell door opening.  When she felt the prick of a needle in her arm, she finally realized that the sound was coming from her.  Then, as her voice faded, it was joined and finally superseded by a matching wail that emanated from the courtyard, brought in through her window by the cooling evening breeze.

It went on and on while Orfeo and another guard hoisted Caitlin off the floor and onto her bunk.  It became more frantic as they covered Caitlin with the rough sheets and blanket and only stopped when Caitlin had finally sunk into unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corbett starts to learn how deep the coverup goes.

Inspector Corbett set the file down on his desk and rubbed his eyes.  The lab tests had finally come back on the Kincaid girl, and none of them made any sense.  All this modern equipment and technological advances, and they couldn’t even put something more than “inconclusive” on the report from her sex assault kit.  About the only thing that was worth anything from the girl’s medical file was her drug screen.  She tested positive for C.

C, or vitamin C, or OJ as it was known variously on the streets was a synthetic drug that made the user incomprehensibly happy and euphoric.  It also generally tended to block inhibitors in the brain that kept the user from overexerting themselves to the point of damage.  It also made people incredibly violent.  So a user on C would be the happiest camper on the planet while he picked up the nearest car and used it to beat his mother to death, tearing his own muscles right off the bones as he did so.  And then, if he survived the night, he wouldn’t remember a damn thing about it.

On top of all the inconclusive laboratory results, there were the crime scene reports.  They all seemed to scream at him that this Kincaid girl had to be the only possible suspect.  He just wasn’t buying it.  He’d looked at her file and gone over the entire medical summary with a fine toothed comb, and everything in his experience told him that there was no way this little eighteen year old girl who couldn’t have broken a buck and a quarter soaking wet could possibly have overpowered and stabbed seven people to death.  But everything in front of him said she did. 

He rubbed his eyes in frustration and tilted his chair back, trying to make sense of everything.  The phone on his desk rang, piercing his deep breathing relaxation exercise.  He picked up the receiver.

“Corbett,” he said into the phone.

“Inspector Corbett?” the voice on the other end was hesitant.  “This is Doctor Amine from Charity.”

Corbett thought through the file for a moment before he placed the name.  “The pathologist.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Amine answered, “I need to see you. Can you meet me at Dave’s?”

Dave’s was the local bar not far from the hospital.  It gave a discount to staff, and the proprietor had to have been a genius, knowing that a lot of the staff needed a place to blow off steam and he put the bar right between the hospital and the upper-class west hills section.

“Yeah, I can be there.  Say, thirty minutes?”

“That would be fine.  Thank you, inspector.”

The line went dead and Corbett hung the phone up.  Curiosity roused, he collected the files on his desk and made his way downstairs to his car.  He couldn’t say why the doc wanted to talk with him, but it sounded important, and maybe it would shed some light on the case.

Dave’s tavern was dark, as was the case with many of its ilk, but it was fastidiously clean and looked about as far from a hospital as possible.  The usual bar was in place along the far wall, but in the main area the seating was simply leather couches clustered around various coffee tables.  All in all the vibe was much more comfortable than any other bar he’d been in. 

He didn’t have to look very hard for Doctor Amine.  An older, balding man with glasses resting on his overly large nose was sitting at the far end of the bar and beckoning him over.  Corbett ambled his way across the room and took a seat on the bar stool next to the doctor. 

“What’s it gonna be, chief?” the bartender asked.

“A pint of whatever you’ve got on tap that you like to drink,” Corbett answered.

The bartender smiled and poured up a glass of dark amber ale and set it in front of the inspector, then went on his way back down to the far end of the bar.  Corbett took a gulp of the bitter drink and turned to face Amine. 

“All right, doc.  Tell me something.”

The doctor looked nervously at the door, then at the bartender.  Then he leaned a bit closer to Corbett and answered with his voice low, “You need to know something about the Kincaid case, inspector.”

“I need to know a lot about that case doc.  What specifically do you think I need to know?”

“The girl’s official tox screen said she was positive for C, right?”

“Well you should know, you saw the records.”  Corbett fiddled with his glass with a frown on his face, he knew this stuff already.

“Well, inspector, those results are false.”

“That’s a big claim, doctor.”

“I know, and I don’t have proof.  I did my own test on the blood and the girl was positive for a drug, but it wasn’t C.  It was rohypnol.  The girl was sedated.”

Corbett frowned.  “You just said you didn’t have proof.”

The doctor took a swig of his beer and shook his head, “Someone broke into my office and stole the samples and the test results.”

“So you’re saying there’s some sort of conspiracy going on?”

The doctor took a deep breath and sighed.  “Inspector, I know there’s a conspiracy.  And if you tell anyone else what I’m going to tell you, I suspect you won’t be long for your career.”

Corbett frowned deeper, “What are you saying?”

“Kincaid’s rape kit wasn’t inconclusive.  She’d had sex that night, right before everything went down.” Amine’s eyes turned to focus on his beer as he continued, “The timeline is such that she had to have had sex at that house.  And the semen didn’t match any of the blood found there.  You’re missing someone, inspector.”

“Of course I’m missing someone.  The lab brought back a whole lot more results than there were bodies.  Care to be more specific?” Corbett growled.  He didn’t like where this was headed.  He didn’t like loose ends.

“There was someone in that house who isn’t among the dead, or the living.  I saw the DNA results your lab guys ran and the DNA that came up on the girl’s rape kit didn’t show up there, either.  And that person is male and had sex with your Kincaid girl in that house.”

“That would explain the stain on the sheets in the bedroom,” Corbett mused, almost to himself.  “So why does the report say it was inconclusive?”

The doctor finished what was left of his beer and again looked over his shoulder before he answered. “Senator Lewis’ boys came by my office yesterday.  They…they made me change the results.”

Corbett’s eyes widened and he gaped, “What?!  And you went along with it?”

Doctor Amine looked pained.  “He knows things about me, and I couldn’t afford not to.”  His eyes looked into Corbett’s, imploring him to understand. “If you breathe a word, I’ll deny it.  You don’t want to get in the middle of this, inspector.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” Corbett demanded.

Amine smiled sadly, “They’re going to condemn this girl, inspector.  My conscience isn’t black enough that I can just look the other way.”

Corbett frowned, “No?  You might as well just tie the robe on her yourself you-“ he stopped himself and stood up, leaving his beer unfinished.  “I don’t know how you can live with that, doctor,” he practically spat the last word, “but you’ve obviously figured out a way.” 

“The only thing I can do, inspector, is hope that I’ve given you enough that you’ll find something on your own.”

Corbett turned to leave and stopped at a hand on his shoulders. 

“You need to look at Senator Lewis, inspector.  He’s involved somehow.” 

Corbett shook the hand off his shoulder and stalked out of the bar.  He couldn’t prove a damn thing, but it was a place to start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin awakens from the sedative and learns something new about Orfeo.

The night was cold and the sheets and blankets in the cell were not thick or warm.  Adequate was a term that could have been used on any warmer night, but this evening was not one of those nights.  Caitlin shivered under the blankets and tried to clear the sedative fog from her brain.  Thinking came slowly and thickly like her neurons had turned to molasses.

At the very edge of her consciousness, throughout her drugged sleep, she’d heard the intermittent wailing and crying coming from the open window. The sounds from the courtyard mingled in her mind with confused images of Hunter over her, covered in blood, then her waking up on the couch and seeing her friends dead and lying all around her.

Slowly the images cleared and she swam up and up towards consciousness.  As her thoughts rose, she started to become aware of that pitiful moaning. It was still coming from outside the window. Or was it her, starting again?  She shook her head, trying to clear the last of the cobwebs.

Slowly, she tried to piece together everything from when she’d felt the needle. Random images and memories were all she could put together, nothing coherent and nothing with a point of reference she could use to figure out what time it was or how long she’d been drugged.  It was dark outside and the lights were off in the cells.  From the window, though, she could see amber light similar to street lighting.  The lights must stay on in the courtyard all night long.

Again came a low moaning cry from the window.  Caitlin sat up and nearly passed out once again as dizziness overtook her.  She put a hand out on the bunk to steady herself until it passed, then sat there wondering if she could muster the strength to stand.  After a minute, she finally felt stable enough and she pushed herself to her feet.  Another wave of dizziness and nausea assaulted her, but she knew how to deal with it this time and it passed much more quickly.

On shaky legs, she made her way to the window and looked out over the courtyard.  The white-robed girl was still there in the center grassy section.  She was leaned up against the pole, almost facing Caitlin.  All the young girl would have to do was look up and she’d see Caitlin watching her. 

But she didn’t look up.  She merely sat there, eyes downcast.  Caitlin could see, even from her perch a story above the pitiful girl, the telltale shine of tears upon her cheeks.  The white robe hung from her shoulders, open against her chest, though she made no move to close it.  Caitlin looked a bit closer and saw that the robe was even more stained than she remembered.

Caitlin didn’t hold much hope of going to sleep at this point.  This was a place she didn’t belong.  Every little noise, from the creaking of the flag pole outside to the quiet snores of the girl in the next cell over made her more and more uncomfortable.  Tears fell down her face and she realized she was more homesick than she’d ever been.

And now she really had no idea whether she’d ever be going home again.  The girl in the white robe was down there for murder, and Officer Orfeo had said that she was here for the same thing.  Could it be that she could be down there in a few days’ time?  That she would never again sleep in her own bed or see her mother opening her door to kiss her good night or share that last little joke with her father?  This cold, dark, lonely cell overlooking the courtyard could be all she had left.

From her darkened cell, looking out across the courtyard, Caitlin could make out a solitary figure outlined by the hallway light shining through the window next to the door out from the cell block to the courtyard.  The figure stood there, unmoving, simply watching out the window for quite some time.  Just as Caitlin was about to sit back down on her bed to await the morning, the door opened and the figure stepped through.  The light in the courtyard revealed Orfeo’s face when she emerged, carrying a small white and red box.

She stopped just outside the door and let it close quietly behind her, careful to catch it with her hand and ease it shut so it didn’t wake anyone inside the cells.  Then she turned and walked to the central courtyard gate.  The gate was well oiled and didn’t make a sound when she opened it and stepped through.  On the other side, she set down the box just inside the gate and slowly walked to the girl leaning against the pole.  She approached like one would approach a feral, wounded animal.  Slowly and as non-threateningly as possible, she finally eased herself up beside the girl and gently touched her on the shoulder.

Caitlin jumped when the girl sprang to her feet with a low, keening cry and backed away until the chain was drawn taut and she was pulled up short by the collar around her neck.  Still, she tried to get away, to stand up and run.  The collar cut off any sounds she may have been making, and all Caitlin could hear from her window were hoarse gasps and panting as she strained and pulled, every muscle taut against the pull of the chain.  Orfeo stayed in place, sitting calmly and as small as she could make herself, waiting for the girl to realize that she didn’t pose a threat. 

Caitlin watched intently until finally, the girl tired herself out and sagged at the end of the chain.  Her small, limp body lay on the grass, and Orfeo finally stood and retrieved her medical box, looking like she had all the time in the world.  She walked slowly and carefully across the grass and knelt by the exhausted, panting, terrified girl.  Caitlin wasn’t sure what to expect at this point, but Orfeo only reached out and laid her hands gently on the girl’s back.  Too spent to do anything else, the girl only laid there. 

Caitlin could hear a whispered voice almost singing, but she couldn’t make out the words and it took her a moment of straining in the dim light to see Orfeo’s mouth moving and she realized that the guard was quietly singing what sounded like a lullaby to the poor terrified girl.  While she sang, she rummaged in the box she’d brought with her, drawing out some supplies – a needle, some tubing, and a large bag of fluid.  The singing didn’t stop as she drew back the sleeve on the girl’s arm and slipped the needle into the space in her elbow.  Then she hooked up the tubing to the bag of fluid and hung the bag off one of the higher links in the chain. 

When she was done, she slid herself closer and sat cross-legged on the ground next to the girl.  Slowly, gently, she coaxed the girl’s head into her lap and then sat there, singing the song while she stroked the girl’s head, smoothing back her hair over her dirty and tear-streaked face. Caitlin watched the whole thing from her window, not daring to move, not sure she could tear her eyes away even if she wanted to.

As the fluid dripped out of the bag and into the girl, Orfeo pulled another bag out of the box she’d brought with her.  Caitlin could just make out the shine of the clear plastic and finally figured out that it was just a standard zipping plastic bag.  From the bag, Orfeo pulled out little chunks of something and gently put them in the girl’s mouth, coaxing her to eat until finally she chewed and swallowed.

The sight of the stern guard being so tenderly caring for the girl in the courtyard brought tears to Caitlin’s eyes, and eventually she couldn’t stand to watch any more.  She turned away from the window and lay down on her bunk, willing herself to go back to sleep but failing.  She could only lay there and wonder just how many hours there were until the sun would rise again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corbett continues his investigation and things begin to get a little personal for the inspector.

Inspector Corbett had gone through all the evidence and the lab reports.  The guys down in the lab had finally given him the official word.  They had found nineteen different sets of fingerprints around the apartment.  They included all of the dead kids, the parents who owned the house, Kincaid’s, of course, and nine separate others.  He’d also received the recording of the emergency call that had led the police to respond to the house in the late hours of the morning. 

The house he pulled up to looked like just about every other house on the block.  There were only five different models to choose from in this subdivision, so each one just looked like a cookie cutter version of another just a little ways away.  The only identifying features were the numbers on the front of the houses and the different landscaping in the front.  Each house was painted a drab earth tone, leading to a uniform look for the neighborhood.  He supposed they all liked it that way, and it did keep people from being too annoying with their choices of decoration and such.  He never understood, though, why people would give up their individuality like that. 

_My head’s running away with me again,_ he thought.  _Work the case, Corbett, just work the case._   He took a minute to collect his thoughts before he opened the door and climbed out.  As he walked to the door, he pulled his tablet from his coat pocket and flicked it on, pulling up the latest dossier on the kid he was about to visit.  So far, his interviews had been less that enlightening.  Every single one left the party early when things had started to wind down.  It seemed that the ones who stayed were all a close-knit group of friends who regularly hung out together.  This kid, a Josh Jacobs, from the file on the tablet, was the first one he’d found that was anywhere near being in that social circle, so odds were he’d left later in the party and may have seen something interesting. 

There was one further name on his tablet that stuck out and threw up alarm bells everywhere.  Hunter Lewis, son of Senator Lewis.  That name had only come when he’d insisted on a thorough testing of the stain on the sheets from the guest bedroom.  From what central had been able to determine, and from his interviews, he’d learned that Hunter and Caitlin had been an item, but no one could say that there was any bad blood between the two.  He thought back to the warning that the doctor had given him in the bar about senator Lewis throwing his weight around pretty well on this case, and he was betting that Hunter had something to do with it.  Trouble was, no one was willing or able to directly point a finger at him.  The best he’d gotten so far was a vague “he doesn’t feel right, you know?” from one of the earlier partygoers.  Here was to hoping that he’d have better luck with Jacobs.

The tablet went back into its pocket when he approached the door.  There wasn’t any particular reason to be too cautious with this interview, so he put on his best friendly face and knocked on the door.  A well-dressed and conventionally pretty lady opened the door.  Corbett was used to the look of shock that he always received when he went on these interviews.  People generally had a dim view of the police, and he couldn’t really say he blamed them.  There was bad press everywhere and some of his fellow officers didn’t do anything to dispel the rumors, in fact, some of them went out of their way to perpetuate them and make them into truth. 

That being the case, he put on his best smile an held out a hand in introduction. “Ms. Jacobs?” he asked politely, waiting for the nod before he continued, “I’m Inspector Corbett.”

Patricia Jacobs reached out and gently took the inspector’s offered hand, a wary look still in her eye.  “What can I do for you, inspector?”

“No doubt you’ve heard about the murders at the party yesterday?” Corbett asked, positive that she had.  When she nodded, he continued, “I’m the investigator assigned to the case.  Is Joshua at home?”

“What does Josh have to do with the murders?” Patricia asked.

“Our lab techs found his fingerprints at the residence, ma’am, so as a formality, I need to speak with him.  He is not suspected of anything and I’m not here to arrest him.  I need to talk to him to get his story of the events so we can make sure that whoever did it can be caught.”

Patricia regarded the inspector for a moment, “You’ve already caught who did it.  It was all over the news.”

Corbett sighed heavily and tried to keep from rolling his eyes.  It never failed, no matter how they tried to prevent it, the news always seemed to put the story out there in a way that made the outcome a certainty, at least in the minds of the people watching.  “Ma’am, we do have a suspect in custody, but I still have to investigate to ensure all the facts are laid before the magistrates.  Especially in a case like this, we have to be very sure that we have all the information available.  May I please speak with Joshua?”

Patricia hesitated for just a moment more, and Corbett could see the debate taking place behind her eyes.  Finally her common sense won out and she stepped back from the door to invite him in.  She didn’t say another word to him, just closed the door behind him and called up the stairs.  “Josh!  Come downstairs please.”

Pounding steps sounded through the ceiling above their head and it was only seconds before a young man made his way to the top of the stairs.  From the information on his tablet, Corbett knew that Josh was seventeen and due to graduate at the end of the year.  He was on the scrawny side with spiky blonde hair atop his head and eyes that wouldn’t stop moving.  He stopped dead when he turned and saw Corbett. His eyes went from the inspector to his mother, then back again.  Slowly, though, he started to come down the stairs, taking each step almost as slowly as he could with his eyes fixed on Corbett’s badge. 

“It’s all right, Josh,” Corbett said in his best friendly voice.  “I’m here to talk to you about the party you went to the night before last.”

Josh swallowed and sat down on the stairs.  There was a look of fear on the boy’s face, with something else behind it.  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said quietly.

“I know you don’t Josh.  I wouldn’t want to talk about it either, but I need to know what happened.”

Josh took a breath and paused for a moment, then shrugged.  “Amanda invited me to her party and I went because her parents have a killer stereo system and I wanted to play on it.  She said I could be the DJ for the party, and that’s what I did all night.  I saw some friends, played some music, had a good time and went home.”

“What time did you leave, Josh?”

Josh thought for a minute longer, “I think I left about two in the morning.  Things were starting to wind down and I didn’t feel like staying in a strange house, so I hitched a ride with Cameron.”

Corbett reached inside his coat again for his tablet and took a few notes, then pulled the case file back up.  “That would be Cameron Speck, correct?”

Josh nodded, “Yeah, that’s him.  He gave me a ride home and I went to sleep.”

“Did you see anything that you thought was out of place, or strange going on before you left?”

Josh shook his head.  “Not really, sir.  It was just a party with a bunch of kids.”

“Did you see Caitlin Kincaid there?”

Josh nodded, “Yeah, she was there.  I offered to play some Broken Hearts for her, but it looked like she didn’t need it, anyway.”

Corbett lowered his tablet, “Why is that?”

Josh chuckled, “Well, rumor was she’d broken up with her boyfriend, but they were dancing together later on that night.  Getting kind of close and grinding, you know.  Looked like she was still having fun with him.”

Corbett checked his notes again.  “That was Hunter Lewis?” he asked.

Josh nodded again, “Yeah, she and Hunter were kind of the item of the century for a while.  Everyone thought they’d be the ones who got married later on.  They were so into each other, but then things just kind of fell apart, no one knew why.”

“So Hunter was at the party, then?”

“Yeah, he was there.  Like I said, Hunter and Caitlin were getting pretty down with each other out on the dance floor.”  Josh frowned.  “I didn’t see them again after that, though.  Someone said they went upstairs together, but I didn’t see.  Next think I know, she’s on the news.  Did she really kill everyone, sir?”

Corbett shook his head and took a few more notes.  “That’s what I’m trying to find out, Josh.  Was Caitlin acting strangely at all?”

Josh shook his head.  “No, just her normal self.”

Corbett frowned and turned to Patricia, “Ma’am, would you give me a moment alone with Josh?”

Patricia frowned and looked at her son.

“It’s all right, mom,” he said in response to the unasked question. 

Patricia nodded and stalked out of the room, letting the kitchen door swing shut behind her.

Corbett lowered his voice a bit so it wouldn’t carry.  “Josh, I’m not here to investigate you, and whatever you say here to my next questions won’t endanger you in any way, okay?”

Josh nodded, his eyes wide and focused on the inspector. 

“Was there anyone using drugs at the party?” Corbett asked.

Josh shook his head, “No, sir.  I don’t think so.  Amanda hates drugs and no one she hangs out with would do them.”  He looked down at his shoes and fidgeted for a second before looking back up.  “We did have drinks, sir.  Amanda’s parents stocked some beer and stuff in the fridge.  But that’s all, it was just beer and cider and wine coolers.  Nothing harder than that.”

Corbett nodded, “Thanks for the honesty, Josh.”  He made a couple of notes, “You said Amanda hated drugs and wouldn’t hang out with anyone who used them.  Did Caitlin use drugs?  Maybe without Amanda knowing?  Or maybe Amanda knew and made allowance for her best friend?”

Josh shook his head emphatically, “No, sir.  Caitlin was on track for a full ride scholarship.  She’d never, ever endanger that.”

Corbett sighed, “What about Hunter?  Did he use drugs?”

Josh fidgeted a bit more and looked towards the kitchen door.  The apprehension was plain on his face and in his body language, and Corbett frowned.  “Josh, did Hunter use C?”

Josh closed his eyes and shook his head, “No, sir.  I don’t think so.” 

Corbett could hear the hesitation in the boy’s voice and lowered his own voice some more.  “Josh, you need to tell me the truth.  Did Hunter use drugs?”

Josh shook his head again.  “I don’t think so, sir.”  The boy looked back into Corbett’s eyes and what the inspector saw there made his blood run cold. There was naked terror in the boy’s eyes, and they shifted from the kitchen door to Corbett’s face and back again with a pleading look.

“Why are you so afraid, Josh?”  Corbett asked.  “Did someone threaten you?”

Josh shook his head frantically.  “No sir.  I’m not feeling well, can I go now?”

As if on cue, Patricia Jacobs opened the door and came out of the kitchen, a look of determination on her face.  “Inspector, you’ve asked your questions, and you’re upsetting my son.  I’d like you to leave now, please.”

“Ma’am, please.  I need to know what’s going on.”

“We’ve told you what we know, inspector,” Patricia said, her voice stern and commanding.  “Now, I’d like you to leave before I call and file a complaint with my attorney.”

Corbett sighed and straightened up, tucking his tablet away.  “All right, ma’am,” he said.  From his pocket he drew a business card.  “If you think of anything at all, please call me.”

Patricia took the card and opened the door, the demand still plain on her face.  Corbett just shook his head and made his way out the door. 

_Someone got to them,_ he thought as he walked to his car.  He stopped about halfway to it, noticing a small white envelope tucked under the windshield wiper.  Frowning, he walked the rest of the way to the car, pulling a pair of disposable gloves from his pocket.  When they were on, he carefully plucked the envelope from the windshield and opened it. 

From within, he drew a single photograph.  It was of his daughter in school.  She was standing by the gate, maybe waiting for her mother to come pick her up, looking adorable in her school uniform with her ever-present smile on her face.  Beside the girl, though, leaning against a fence pillar, stood a very large man in a dark suit and sunglasses.  His gaze was directly on the little girl with a menacing expression on his face. 

Corbett turned the picture over and read the block letters on the back.  “Call me,” was all it said with a phone number. 

He stood there for a moment, trying to calm the beating of his heart that he was quite sure everyone in the neighborhood would be able to hear.  Carefully, hands shaking, Corbett opened his trunk and pulled two evidence bags out, then slipped the envelope into one and the photo into another.  He put them both on his front seat, then photographed both sides of each with the camera in his tablet.  Even with time being as critical as it was, he had to do this right.  He’d wait until he got back to his office to call, so he could have the recorder going on his phone.  Things were going sideways here, and he really didn’t like it when that happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin confronts Orfeo about her caring for the condemned and learns a bit of history.

It had taken a long time, but Caitlin had fallen asleep after a while, and she woke to the sound of the prison coming to life around her.  The lights were already on in her cell and the hallway by the time she opened her eyes, and she half expected that she’d awaken in her own bed at home with her mother stroking her head in her kind and gentle way while she told her that it was all a dream and that she loved her. 

But she had no such luck.  The only thing greeting her sight when she opened her eyes was the gleaming sliver form of the toilet in the corner and the cinderblock wall behind it.  A spare bit of sunlight streamed in through the window, just barely warming the cell.

Caitlin took a deep breath and finally sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before she looked around again.  Nothing seemed to have changed from last night.  Carefully, she made her way to the window to look out over the courtyard.  The girl in the white robe was still in her place, sitting with her back leaning against the pole, the empty look still on her face. 

Seeing the girl there still brought Caitlin’s mind back to the night and she remembered what she saw of Momma Bear out there taking care of her.  Her mind was brimming with questions that needed answering and she was betting that Orfeo knew some of the answers that she wanted. 

She was hoping that Orfeo would be coming around to check in on everyone during the morning, but there was no such luck.  The only person Caitlin saw was a younger girl dressed in the prison jumpsuit who delivered her morning meal.  Caitlin looked at the unappetizing food lying on the tray in front of her and wondered if she was hungry enough to eat.  Her stomach felt like it was in full rebellion, but she hadn’t had anything to eat in almost a day, so in the end, hunger won out. 

Done with breakfast, there was nothing to do in her cell, and she took to pacing the very short length between the window and the door.  Every few trips to the window, she’d look out and see that the girl in the white robe hadn’t moved an inch. 

“You’re gonna wear a hole in that floor, new girl,” said the girl in the next cell who’d spoken with Caitlin the night before.  “Either that, or you’ll give yourself another panic attack.”

Caitlin jumped at the voice and had to look around the cell for a moment before she placed the voice and figured out that it was coming from the window.  Blushing slightly to herself at being caught in her worry, she made her way to the window and looked out again, surveying the courtyard as she responded. 

“How long was I out?”

“Not too long, just for the night,” the girl in the next cell said. 

Caitlin sighed in relief.  Momma Bear had said yesterday that her inspector would be here to talk to her in twenty four hours and she didn’t want to have missed him.  She still hoped that she could explain her way out of this.  She still couldn’t remember anything past Hunter and her in the bedroom, but she knew that she couldn’t have killed all those people that they said she did.

A sudden thought rammed its way into her head.  If she was at Amanda’s house, and there were seven people dead, was Amanda one of them.

“Do you get news here?” she asked through the open window.

“A little, why?  You wondering what’s up with the awards tonight?” the girl said, her voice almost dripping sarcasm.

“No.  I need to know if they’ve said who died at that party.”

There was a pause from the girl, and when she spoke again, there was something behind her words, cautious and wary, yet sad.  “You really are that girl?  The one they say killed all those people at the party?”

“Yeah,” Caitlin said, finally letting herself realize it fully, “it’s me.  But I couldn’t have done it.  I was…”

She broke off.  She was what?  Upstairs?  Then why did she wake up on the couch downstairs? Everything was all jumbled together and nothing made any sense in her head.

“Just, did they say who was killed?” Caitlin finally asked.

“What, you want the list?”

Caitlin sighed in frustration.  “Did they say anything about Amanda Brighton?”

“Yeah, I think she was one of them,” the girl said after she’d thought for a moment.

Caitlin’s world heaved and she had to sit down as another wave of nausea swept over her.  “No…” she whispered, more to herself than anything. 

“You okay, new girl?” the voice called.

Caitlin couldn’t speak for the tears in her eyes.  She couldn’t believe that her best friend, the girl she’d grown up with almost as sisters, was gone.  She’d never again look into Amanda’s smiling face, never be able to find her that perfect stuffed tiger every year.  Even if she managed to get out of here, her life wouldn’t ever be the same.

“You better talk to me, girl, or I’ll call Momma Bear again,” the girl called again, this time a bit louder.

“Yeah,” Caitlin said, choking back the lump in her throat.  “I’m here.”

“Good, didn’t want to listen to you screaming again.  Get enough of that from the girl down there.”

Caitlin could only sit on the floor.  She thought about getting up, but she knew that the only thing she’d see if she got up and started pacing again was the girl in the white robe, a constant reminder of where she might be going and how this all might be ending.  Instead, she just sat and hung her head between her knees, trying to think of a way, any way that she might be able to prove to the inspector when he came that she didn’t do what they said she did.

She was still there when footsteps sounded in the corridor outside.  She looked up as they stopped in front of her cell and she saw Orfeo standing there, watching her with a look that was almost sympathetic.  After a moment, the door to her cell opened.

“Yard time, Kincaid.  Come with me.”

Orfeo didn’t have her handcuffs in her hand, and when Caitlin got to the door, she realized that none of the other girls were restrained either.  Apparently, once they’d been processed, they weren’t as much of a risk and they were allowed to walk between the cells and the yard without needing to be cuffed.

Caitlin made her way slowly out of the cell and looked down the hallway to see it empty.  She looked back at Orfeo and the question must have been clear in her eyes.

“Figured I’d walk you down today, Kincaid.  You had kind of a rough night last night, and you don’t need them giving you hassles right off today,” Orfeo said.

Caitlin didn’t question the explanation, only nodded, and then followed Momma Bear down the corridor and the stairs to the door she watched the guard coming out of the night before.  Her original assumption was correct, and it was the one across from the office-like room. 

She knew in the back of her mind that it hadn’t been more than twenty four hours since she’d last been outside and seen the sun, but for some reason, the sun over the yard seemed overly bright when Orfeo opened the door to let her out into the yard.  She paused at the threshold and let her eyes adjust, squinting into the bright light. She could barely make out the shapes of the picnic tables and the other girls, but soon enough her vision began to clear.

“You okay, Kincaid?” Orfeo asked.

Caitlin nodded and finally stepped out the doorway and into the yard.  It didn’t look all that different from what she’d seen through her window the night before, and her eyes unerringly settled on the center court with the girl chained to the post.  She looked small from her cell on the second level, but from the ground, on the same level, the girl almost seemed even smaller.  The way she sat, huddled into herself while she leaned against the pole didn’t help the sight any, either.

Caitlin jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder and she spun around to find Orfeo looking at her, a mix of concern and sternness in her eyes. 

“You’re gonna give yourself another attack, Kincaid.  Don’t go focusing on the pole, okay?”

Caitlin nodded.  She could already feel the lump rising in her throat and the tears starting behind her eyes and she tried to think about anything at all that might be able to take her mind off that pitiful figure. 

“I saw you last night, Momma Bear,” she said.  Her voice trembled with the effort to keep it even.  “You were with the girl there.”

Orfeo raised an eyebrow, but otherwise her expression didn’t change.  “Thought I saw you watching,” she said.

“Why is she there, Momma Bear?” Caitlin asked.

Orfeo sighed and took Caitlin by the arm to lead her to one of the metal benches that Caitlin had seen earlier when she’d been looking out over the courtyard.  When she sat down next to Orfeo, the officer lowered her voice.  “She’s condemned, Kincaid. She killed two people.”

“But what does that mean?” Caitlin asked, obviously confused.

“Don’t you know your history, girl?” Orfeo asked, “Declaration of Universal Justice.”

Caitlin frowned and thought back to her classes in high school.  She could vaguely remember her history class and her civics class touching on the declaration, but she could only remember the one quote.  As she thought a bit harder a few other details settled into her mind.  The declaration had taken away an accused’s right to a trial by jury; instead all trials happened in front of a magistrate.

Orfeo saw the comprehension in Caitlin’s eyes and she nodded.  “Yeah.  What they don’t tell you a lot of in school is that it also set the rules for people convicted of capital crimes, and that’s it, there.”

Orfeo gestured to the center yard as she spoke.  “Since someone who’s guilty of something that horrible is obviously beyond rehabilitation, the declaration says that they’re no longer even considered a person.  They’re just a thing.  And they live at the mercy of the state for one week.  It was symbolic somewhere, but I don’t remember just why it was seven days.”

Caitlin listened attentively, eyes wide while she considered the implications that the lesson had for her own life in the very near future.  If the girl there had killed two people and ended up there, what was going to happen to her if they decided that she’d been the one that killed seven?  She really didn’t want her mind going down that route, but strangely enough, staring at Momma Bear’s calm face it didn’t seem to get to her as badly as it had the night before. She could still feel the gorge rising in her throat and her heart speeding up just a touch.

“But if she’s not a person anymore and she’s going to die, why were you taking care of her last night?”

Orfeo looked around the yard and then back to Caitlin and lowered her voice even further.  “Kincaid, you’re what?  Eighteen?  You haven’t had enough time to figure out how things work.”  Orfeo frowned as she looked at the young girl, then continued, “Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.  People sometimes get caught up in things that they don’t understand and they end up where they’re not supposed to be.” 

There was significance in the look that she gave Caitlin as well as the tone in her voice when she spoke and Caitlin started to think back again to the night of the party and try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything that even came close to what they all claimed she did.  She didn’t see anything in her mind’s eye of any violence whatsoever, and she found it odd that she could remember so clearly being with Hunter but nothing after that.

She looked back up into Orfeo’s gaze, “Who is she, Momma Bear?”

“The condemned don’t have names, Kincaid.  They’re not people, remember.”  She stood up and looked down at Caitlin.  “Don’t dwell on it, girl.  You’ll only make yourself sick.”

She started to walk away but stopped and turned back around after a couple of steps.  “Oh, and Inspector Corbett will be here this afternoon for your interview.”

Caitlin nodded and watched as Orfeo walked away towards the door.  Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering back to the center yard.  From this angle, she was looking at the girl head on.  The girl didn’t look up and Caitlin had the suspicion that she didn’t even realize any of the other girls were around her at all. 

When she heard the door opening beside her, she first figured that it would be Orfeo going back into the building, but instead when she looked up, she saw the imposing bulk of Sinclair, her original tormentor at the hospital. 

She let out a quiet squeak of surprise and fear and moved herself away on the bench, drawing his attention to her.  He smiled maliciously as he recognized her and advanced on her one step after another. His large form cast a long shadow that completely engulfed the terrified girl.  Caitlin whimpered when she ran out of bench and landed with a soft thud on the concrete, and then crab-walked back up against the wall.  The big man had a look in his eyes that started her body shaking even without realizing she was doing it. 

“Hello, pretty pussy,” Sinclair said through the leer on his face.  “Been showing off those little lips for anyone yet?”

Caitlin couldn’t think of anything to say, and she doubted that she’d be able to say anything, anyway.  Her stomach felt like it was up in her throat and she could barely breathe, let alone speak.  She just shook her head dumbly and looked up at the big man with her eyes wide.

Sinclair laughed down at her and stood there, hands on his hips, right hand so very close to the nightstick that was hanging off his belt.  He was so focused on the terrified girl that he didn’t hear Orfeo coming up behind him.

“Terrorizing one of my girls, Sinclair?” Orfeo asked in a cold, hard voice.  “You know what the warden had to say about that the last time we had this talk.”

Sinclair turned to face Orfeo and his lips drew back in a snarl.  “What do you care, ‘Momma Bear,’” he sneered.  The title he used dripped with sarcasm and contempt.  “You’re so lovey-dovey with these girls that they’re never gonna learn what they need to.”  He chuckled darkly, “Well, I guess it don’t matter for this one anyway.  I’ll see her soon enough.”

He took another look down at Caitlin and gave her one of his most menacing, predatorial smiles.  “Don’t you worry, pretty pussy.  You’re gonna get your daddy bear pretty soon.” 

Then with a laugh, he strode away to the cell block door.

Caitlin could only sit against the building, hugging her legs to herself while she shivered, even in the warm sunlight.  Orfeo watched Sinclair walk back inside, and then sat next to Caitlin.  She didn’t try to comfort or coddle, just sat there and let her be.  Finally Caitlin’s shivering eased and she laid her head on her knees.

“You okay now, Kincaid?” Orfeo asked, looking down at her.

Caitlin shook her head and when she looked back up, she saw a look of concern in the older woman’s eyes.  “I’m going to be in there, aren’t I, Momma Bear?”

Orfeo looked at the girl in the white robe in the center courtyard and then back to Caitlin.  “I wish I could say no, Kincaid, but you’re facing some pretty serious things.”  She sighed and leaned back against the building, turning her eyes back to the girl.  “I ain’t gonna lie and sugar coat it for you, girl.  There’s probably an even chance that you will.  But you talk to your inspector and you tell him everything.  I mean everything, girl.  And when you’re done, you tell it to him all over again. 

“You tell him the truth, every last bit of it, and there’s a chance that you’ll get to go home again.”

Orfeo looked down at Caitlin with a serious stare and Caitlin nodded.  It really wasn’t much, but it was something to cling onto, and she was grateful that Orfeo hadn’t pulled any punches.  At least she knew exactly what she was up against and a bit of an idea on what she had to do to keep from ending up there.  She hoped that she’d be meeting with the inspector soon.  Staring at the girl there against the pole was taking its toll on her.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corbett is summoned to a meeting.

Inspector Corbett walked through the station, badging himself through the locked doors until he got to his desk. He drew the bagged photo out of his pocket and tossed it onto the desk, then sat in the big chair to look it over.

Nothing had changed from the last time he’d looked at it. It was still a photo of his daughter outside her school, and there was still a number on the back of it. Sighing, he opened his bottom desk drawer and drew out the recording equipment for his phone. He hooked in all the connections, then double-checked them, and finally hooked the recorder to his computer and started up the recording software. After a minute or two, the computer was ready to record and transcribe the call.

He picked up the phone in one hand and the photo in the other, and carefully dialed the number left on the back, taking a deep breath as he pushed the final button. He toyed with the photo in the bag while he listened to the tone of the phone ringing. After three rings, there was a click and a voice on the other end. “Corbett?” it asked.

Corbett couldn’t make out anything in the background and from the sound of the voice; it was an older male speaking. “This is Inspector Corbett. Who’s this?” Might as well get the introductions out of the way.

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Did you really think that you’d get something on that recorder, Corbett? You think this is a game? Something you can win?”

Corbett frowned at the computer screen. The software was supposed to transcribe in real time, while the parties on the conversation were speaking, and nothing was appearing on the screen, just a blank white page with a blinking cursor in the upper left. The record button was on and all the settings were correct, but nothing was coming out the other end. “Who is this?” he demanded.

“No names, Corbett. Can we both agree that I have something you’re very interested in? Namely the safety of someone quite close to you?”

“You leave my daughter alone, you sorry sack of-“

“Now, now, Corbett none of that, or something might happen to someone that you care about.” The voice laughed.

“What do you want?” Corbett asked.

“Right now, I want you to click the ‘accept’ button on your screen.”

As the voice was speaking, a little box had appeared on Corbett’s screen with the option to accept or cancel an incoming file transfer. He looked closer at the box, and recognized it as one of the boxes that popped up when the in-house computer nerds needed to put something on his computer while he was working. That meant it was an internal file transfer.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and clicked “accept.” The computer hummed while it downloaded whatever it was, and when it was done, a grainy, jumpy video opened in a little window in the top right of his monitor. Corbett growled in shock as he recognized the living room in his house.

“What the hell-“ he started.

“Keep watching, Inspector.”

After a few seconds, the scene changed, from the living room to the kitchen. After another five seconds, it switched again. Then again, and again. Every time it switched scenes, it was showing a different portion of Corbett’s home. His eyes narrowed and he had to restrain himself from slamming the phone down when a view of his daughter’s bedroom appeared in the window.

“You sick fucks,” Corbett growled.

“Language, Inspector,” the voice chided. “I assume we have your attention, then?”

Corbett watched as the views recycled around back to his living room and he nodded, “Yeah, you’ve got it. What do you want?”

“I want you to come to 584 Riverview. You’re going to come alone, in your personal vehicle, without any electronics. I don’t care what you do with all your things. Leave them in the office, throw them out on the road, but when you get there, you’re not going to have so much as a digital watch on you. Then you’re going to get out of your car and wait.”

“I can’t just leave my things here at the office; people will be trying to get ahold of me. I’m working a case.”

“The case is on hold for the next couple hours, Inspector. You’re going to want to hear what we have to say. And besides, I don’t think your boss is going to have a problem with it.” The voice chuckled again.

Corbett started to say something into the phone, and then realized that the click that he’d just heard had been the other side hanging up. He held the receiver in his hand, as if he was unsure of what to do with it. He looked up at the monitor, still holding it to his ear. The counter that showed how long the call had been and how much of it had been recorded was still at 00:00. The software hadn’t worked at all and he’d gotten absolutely nothing that he could take anywhere.

Finally, he looked at the receiver as if it was the first time that he’d seen it and then laid it gently on the base. Still not willing to accept that he’d gotten nothing from the call, he pushed the play button on his screen. Nothing happened, and he clicked it again, this time harder and with a growl of frustration. Still nothing.

Sighing, he stood up and opened the drawer to his desk. They’d told him to come alone right now, and they said that his boss wouldn’t have a problem with it. How high up did all this go?

With shaking hands, he emptied his pockets into the drawer. He kept his keys, his gun and his badge, but from what he saw on the screen, there was no way that he wanted to make these people angry. They had a camera in his daughter’s room for heaven’s sake. If they could get into his home to put cameras there, then they could get in to do other things, too.

He finally took his watch off and tossed it in the drawer with the rest of his electronics. He felt naked without his tablet in its holder just inside his jacket. There were rarely times that an inspector was without it, since it offered a real-time interface to the central computer and relayed all the relevant facts of the case to the person in the field. It also served as a GPS point for when an officer was out. If anything went wrong, the station would have an exact location on the tablet and they’d be able to send help. It also let dispatch and the supervisors keep an eye on the new guys, and the old guys if they really wanted.

He’d be going into this meeting with nothing that would let anyone know where he was if anything went hinky. Finally deciding that he could at least risk a little bit, he pulled a sticky note from his other drawer and scrawled a quick note.

“Went to sketchy meeting at 584 Riverview,” he wrote on the paper. Then he opened the drawer and laid the note on top of his digital life. Then he closed and locked the drawer, knowing full well that the higher-ups had the master key. If anything happened to him, they’d be able to get into his desk and that’s the first thing they’d see.

Having done what he could from where he was, he took the lift down to his car and drove himself to the address. When he got there, all he saw was a driveway leading up to a condemned house that was falling in on itself. A dying oak tree lay half-uprooted in the yard. All the windows in the house had been broken and through the hole where the front door used to be Corbett could make out graffiti on the walls of the living room.

His drive had taken him all the way across town, over the tracks and under the overpasses. This was the worst part of town for anyone to be in, and he felt overexposed sitting here in his car. He didn’t even have the comfort of a police radio in the vehicle with him, having taken his own personal car. Whoever put this whole thing together, they didn’t want anyone tracking where he was.

He took another minute to look up and down the street, seeking something familiar, maybe someone he knew or something to put this all in perspective. Unfortunately, there was nothing there. The street was abandoned without even the usual pedestrian traffic that would have gone along with this part of town.

Corbett drew his handgun from its holster and released the magazine, checking to ensure that it was loaded and ready, and when he slid it home, he drew the slide back to chamber a round. He didn’t like the way this was going, and he wanted to be ready in case things went south. Then he slid the handgun back into the leather holster and opened the door. With it opened, he could hear a faint ringing coming from inside the house.

He frowned at the gaping hole in the wall and got out of the car, closing the door behind him. He made the quick decision to keep the door unlocked. There wasn’t anyone out on the street to worry about, anyway, and should he need to, he’d be able to get back in and get away quickly. Still hesitant, he walked to the very threshold of the door and listened again. The ringing had stopped, but after a second or two passed, it started up again. It wasn’t a house phone, it was definitely a cell. He took a tentative step into the house and down the hallway to the right. The graffiti on the wall was vulgar and offensive and whoever had painted it had no love for the police.

The thoughts about who had painted the graffiti and why they’d done it helped to keep his mind from what was going on, and it kept him from dwelling too much on the fact that at this very moment, there was some thug watching his daughter at school, waiting for her to come back out the doors. It wasn’t a long walk to the kitchen in the old abandoned house, and when he got there he saw a simple, black cell phone sitting on the counter, ringing a generic ring.

_For once, someone finally programmed a cell phone to ring like a damn phone,_ he thought to himself as he stood in the kitchen doorway, debating answering it. While he stood, the phone stopped ringing and his heart skipped a beat. Maybe there was someone around that was watching him and they’d decided he wasn’t going to be answering, so it was time to move on with something else. He crossed to the counter in just a few hurried steps and scooped up the phone.

The caller ID on the screen just had a bunch of zeros on it, no identifying information about who had called. He stared dumbly at the phone, willing it to ring again, hating that he’s making himself a slave to whoever was on the other end of the line. He couldn’t suppress the instinct to be a cop and figure out what was going on, but the father and family-man part of him could overrule that without any thought whatsoever.

He nearly dropped the phone in surprise when it started ringing in his hands again, and he looked at the screen. Again it was nothing but zeros, with no name or any other information. He took a breath to steady his voice and pushed the answer button, then held the phone to his ear.

“I’m here, now what?” he said. His words echoed in the empty kitchen.

“Very good, inspector. Now, I want you to walk to the window there in front of you and lift your shirt.” The voice on the phone was the same one that had been on the other end of the line in the office.

“I’m not wearing a wire,” Corbett said, but he moved to the window anyway and with his free hand lifted up his shirt to show his bare chest. Then the turned and did it again for his back.

“I’m sure you understand, Inspector,” the voice said with an amused tone. “It’s not like we’re doing anything legal here, and we wouldn’t want a law-abiding person such as yourself to get the idea that we need to get caught.”

“Whatever,” Corbett said, “I just want my family safe.”

“That’s good,” the voice on the other end said with a chuckle. “I tell people all the time that you can make anyone see your point of view, you just have to give them the proper motivation.”

Corbett stood in at the window for another moment then let his shirt drop back down.

“All right, are you happy?” he asked.

“Very,” the voice answered. “Now, take the phone with you and walk out the back door. You’ll find a garage across the yard. That’s where you’re going.”

There was a click on the line, then silence. Corbett took the phone away from his ear and looked at the flashing ‘call duration’ indicator on the screen. Then he pressed the end button on the phone and slipped it into his pocket, almost on top of where his tablet would be if he still had it on him.

He looked around the kitchen again and saw a sliding glass door, or rather the frame of one, the glass was shattered all over the floor and the ground outside. Stepping through the door, he found himself in the middle of an unkempt back yard, looking out at a ramshackle old garage. It looked worn down and like it was going to fall over at any time. Peeling dark brown paint hung in flakes to the rotting wood. On the side of the building facing him, there was a door that at one time had a hasp lock on it, but it had long since rotted to the point that the lock was just there for show, and as Corbett stepped closer, it looked like it had been broken apart quite recently. The hasp hung limply from the door with the rusted lock still attached.

He pushed open the door and stared into the gloom. The garage didn’t look all that large from the outside, maybe big enough to hold a car and some stuff, and there was no light at all coming from inside. After a moment, his eyes adjusted and he saw the telltale shine of a car’s paint inside. He could make out the trim that he knew belonged to one of the expensive sedans that the well-to-do used. Oddly enough, the police force had a few of them in the fleet for the captains and the chiefs to use.

He took a step through the door and found the back door of the car open and waiting for him. He hesitated for a moment, looking back the way he came, out at the dying grass in the yard, then back at the open car door. There was some sort of finality about getting in to the car as if he would never be able to take back what he was doing.

With another breath, he slid into the back seat of the car. Inside, he found himself sitting next to a large man in a black suit bore an uncanny resemblance to the man in the photograph from his windshield. The guy had eyes that made him think of all the killers that he’d locked up in his time as an inspector. There were some who had the crazy eyes, and who he knew weren’t seeing the world in the same way he did. But there were others that he could look into their eyes and he knew, without a doubt, that they saw the same things that he did, but they didn’t care about morality and about society and about good or evil. There was a surety in the look and a complete lack of emotion. Wild wolves had the look that this man did. He could kill Corbett and not even blink, but it wasn’t the look that said he was hungry for it; just that he would do what was necessary and not think twice.

All that was communicated in a second’s glance and Corbett pulled his eyes away to look across the compartment at the other man sitting across from him. He was older, and the grey showed plainly in his hair. He held himself with dignity and pride, even in the seat of the car, and his deep green eyes were shrewd and calculating. There was a small, spiteful smile on his face as he regarded Corbett. For some reason, the inspector had the feeling of being a bug under a microscope. Something interesting, but not consequential.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Corbett had to restrain himself from actually exclaiming when he recognized the man. He’d seen the face on too many late night news shows, and at too many fundraising parties. In fact, the inspector had danced with the man’s wife at the last public safety dinner last month.

“Senator Lewis,” Corbett said.

“Inspector Corbett,” Lewis responded. “It’s so good to see you again.” The man’s face lit in a predatory grin and he leaned forward to lay his folded arms on his knees, bringing his face closer to Corbett’s. “How is your wife? Jennifer, if I remember correctly?”

Corbett balked at the mention of his wife’s name and tried to swallow back the bile that threatened to fill his mouth. “Obviously, you’d know how she is, you’ve got cameras in our house.”

Lewis grinned even wider. “Yes,” he said, “distasteful business, that.” The he chuckled menacingly, and the tone of his voice said that he found it anything but. “Although I have to admit that I’ve rather enjoyed watching her around the house. She’s such a lovely young thing.” The senator watched the inspector’s face as he taunted him.

Corbett could barely contain the anger that boiled up inside at the admission that this senator had been watching him and his wife, and his fists clenched against his thighs. “Even if you are a Senator, Lewis, you’re still a sleaze.”

“Say what you will, Richard,” Lewis said, waving his hand dismissively at the comment, “but sometimes I have to resort to measures that not everyone likes or agrees with.”

“Just tell me what you want, Lewis,” Corbett interjected.

“I have a little bit of a problem,” Lewis said. “I’m sure you feel for your family the same way that I feel for mine, and you’d do about anything for them, am I right?”

Corbett frowned and nodded. The bastard had to know that was true otherwise he wouldn’t be here listening to this. “Yeah, and you got my attention by threatening mine, so what’s this got to do with Jennifer and Angela?”

“You’re working a case that’s very close to my family, Corbett, and I want you to assure me that you’ll find exactly what I need you to find.”

“You mean the Kincaid case, don’t you?” Corbett asked, thinking back to his conversation with the pathologist from the hospital. “You sent your goons to tamper with the evidence. What did you have on the doc, huh? You do him a favor and now he owes you?”

“Something like that. My boys found him in bed with his babysitter and we agreed not to make certain people aware of his proclivities towards young teenage girls.” Lewis laughed darkly, “And now I see that the investment was well worth my time.”

“You’re a sick fuck, Lewis. What do you want with me?” Corbett demanded.

“It must be getting clearer by now, Inspector.” Lewis said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I know that you’ve already spoken to the dear doctor, so I know he told you what the actual findings were in Kincaid’s examination.”

Corbett nodded, “Yeah, he told me that before you sent your muscle after him that he found ruffies in her system, not C. I’m guessing that there’s no way she could have been the one who killed the kids, since she was drugged senseless at the time.”

“You’re getting there, Corbett,” Lewis said. “Now, I want you to take the lab reports that were given to you. My boys here ensured that there aren’t any more copies of the one he was trying to tell you about, so the only record is the ‘official’ one that he signed. You accept that one as the real deal and you stop digging.” Lewis smiled; it was the smile that won him elections. “Caitlin Kincaid killed the kids at the party and you’ve got the right person in custody. You need to make that stick.”

“You want me to lie for you?” Corbett asked, and suddenly things started to make sense in his mind. “Your kid was there, too, right? Hunter?” The pieces fell into place in Corbett’s head as he continued to think about it. “Hunter’s the perp, isn’t he?”

Lewis leaned forward with a snarl on his face, “Hunter is my son, and as far as you’re concerned, Corbett, he left the party well before anything happened there, understand?”

Corbett stared at the senator for a time and shook his head. “I can’t let an innocent girl go in front of the magistrate, Lewis. They’re planning on condemning her.”

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen, Corbett,” Lewis snarled again, “You’re going to go in there with the evidence that you’ve got and you’re not going to go sticking your nose anywhere else. You’re going to make damn sure that they DO condemn that girl.”

He leaned forward a little more until his nose was mere inches from Corbett’s. “If any of that’s unclear, Richard, then let me tell you what’s going to happen if they start looking into my son. My boys are going to find your daughter, and you know they know where she is, and they’re going to take her someplace that you’ll never find her. Then they’re going to give you a link like they did today, and they’re going to let you watch while they pull her eyes out with their fingers. Then they’re going to make her scream into the camera while they make a woman out of her just before they string her entrails up around the room in a house like this.”

Corbett could smell the light tinge of alcohol on the senator’s breath as he spoke and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull his eyes from Lewis’.

“The last words you will ever hear from your daughter will be her screaming and crying out for her daddy to save her while my boys pull her apart, and the last view of her that you’ll ever have will be her shining, dripping intestines hanging from an old chandelier while her eyeless face stares at you from the kitchen counter. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Richard?”

All the moisture had evaporated from Corbett’s mouth and his heart beat fast against his chest. He had to restrain himself from reaching up to the senator’s neck, so close and inviting, but he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere near far enough before the big bodyguard next to him stopped him. Given the imagination shown in the threat that he’d just made, he didn’t want to know what the senator had in store for him or his family if he tried to kill him in the back seat of the car here.

He swallowed a couple of times, trying to dampen his tongue once again while he stared into Lewis’ eyes. He nodded while he swallowed and when he could speak again, he said, “Perfectly, Senator.”

“Good,” Lewis said, then sat back against the seat, leaving a trace scent of cologne and scotch in the air between the seats. “Now, one of my boys is making sure that your wife gets to where she needs to be today, given that her car has had some unexpected mechanical troubles.”

“You leave my wife out of this, Lewis,” Corbett said. “I’ll do what you want, you just leave her alone.”

“Don’t worry, Richard. Your chief was kind enough to provide her with a car and a driver, courtesy of the police department. Just until her car gets fixed, you understand.” Lewis laughed, “It might take about, oh, nine days or so to get it fixed. Just long enough that we can make sure everything goes through without a hitch.”

“You are an evil, malicious bastard, Lewis,” Corbett said.

“And you’d do well to remember that, Corbett,” Lewis responded. “The system is broken, Inspector, and the only ones who survive are the ones who can work it to their own ends…and those who go along with it. You can survive… or not, your choice.”

The bodyguard reached over Corbett and opened the door.

“Give my regards to your captain, inspector, and remember that we’re watching you.”

Corbett felt sick as he got himself out of the car. The door closed behind him and the car started, then edged forward until the nose had nudged open the garage doors, then it pulled quietly out of the rotting building and drove down the road. He watched it roll away and finally turned and walked off the yard and around the side of the house to get back into his own car.

Sitting in the hot interior of the car, Corbett couldn’t even raise his eyes to the mirror, and he debated starting the car or leaning his head out of the door to vomit. He was saving his family, but it still felt that he was selling his soul.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corbett interviews Caitlin

Through the time that she was outside in the yard, Caitlin kept seeing Orfeo every time she looked around, and she couldn’t shake the thought that the guard was watching her, or perhaps watching out for her. The other girls didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with her, and that was okay with her. Looking at them and watching them in their recreation time, she had just one thought, _I don’t belong here._

All the other girls were making the best of their time in the yard and Caitlin was left mostly alone on her bench up against the wall. She tried not to stare at the girl in the center courtyard, but her eyes kept being drawn back to her and eventually, she stood up from her bench and made her way across the concrete to the fence. She stood there staring at the girl, trying to make up her mind what she should do, or what she should say.

Finally, she knelt down on the concrete and interlaced her fingers into the chain link of the fence. The girl didn’t stir, and didn’t even seem to notice her presence.

“Hello,” Caitlin said in a quiet and tentative voice.

The girl didn’t move, and gave no sign of life except for the rising and the falling of her chest.

“Leave her alone, girl,” Orfeo said, her voice coming from right behind Caitlin.

Caitlin jumped and scrambled to her feet, spinning around to face the guard. “I- I just-“

“Look Kincaid,” Orfeo said, “the girl’s got enough going on that she doesn’t need you pestering her.”

As she spoke, Orfeo’s eyes looked over Caitlin to the girl and she closed her eyes, hiding a very quick look of pain that flashed across her face. Caitlin barely had time to register that the look was there before it was gone.

“Yard time’s over, anyway.”

Caitlin looked around Orfeo and saw the other girls filing back in through the door, and through the windows on the first floor, she saw them being let back into their cells. She nodded and started to walk to the door, side by side with Orfeo.

“You’re not going back to your cell right now, Kincaid. Your inspector is here to see you, so I’ll take you to the interview room.”

Caitlin merely nodded, then followed Orfeo through the door and then back across the hall to the office room where she’d been processed the night before. Instead of going to the showers, though, Orfeo opened a door on the side wall and ushered her through it. On the other side was a hallway with two sets of heavy metal doors on either side. Everything from the floor to the ceiling to the cinderblock walls was painted a dull, industrial blue.

Orfeo stopped in front of the first door and pulled a key ring off her belt, and then she unlocked the door and opened it. Inside Caitlin could see a plain metal table and two chairs. All of the furniture was bolted securely to the floor. In one wall was a large mirror, and from all the television shows she’d watched, she knew that it was one-way glass and that there would be others on the other side of the glass watching her interview.

“Go on in, girl,” Orfeo said and gently pushed her through the door. “Corbett will be in after a few.”

The door shut firmly behind her and Caitlin heard the lock sliding home. Obviously, they weren’t worried about her walking around the room or trying anything with the furniture all secured the way it was, and she took advantage of the little time that she had to walk. The room was thrice the size of her cell, and it was nice to merely walk around a little more than she’d been able to the day and night before.

It was more than a few minutes that she walked around before the door finally unlocked and an unfamiliar man walked through. He was taller than Caitlin, and there were touches of grey starting around his temples, and though he looked older, he didn’t strike her as ‘old.’ But the circles under his eyes gave her the impression that he was more wizened than she first thought.

He stopped inside the door and waited for it to close and lock behind him, then he walked to the side of the table that put his back to the glass and held out his hand to the other chair, obviously inviting her to sit.

Caitlin figured that the request was more a demand, and she obeyed immediately, walking from the far corner of the room where she had stopped in her circuits of pacing to sit in the chair on the far side of the table from the man.

“Miss Caitlin Kincaid,” the man said in the same tone of voice that Orfeo had used the night before, a tone that implied business and seriousness, but was still the rote memorized speech that he had to have given hundreds of times before. Caitlin sat quietly and waited for him to continue.

“My name is Richard Corbett, and I am the investigator assigned to your case. You are here because you have been accused of seven counts of murder. The events leading to these charges occurred on or about the eighth day of August of this year. I have begun my preliminary investigation and I have found that the evidence supports these charges. Therefore, you will continue to be held in this facility for the duration of the investigation and the subsequent trial.”

Caitlin’s heart leapt into her throat at the pronouncement that there was enough evidence to actually keep her here. She had hoped that the inspector would come in and tell her that everything was going to be okay, and that they’d found the person who had actually done the killing. But no, he still thought it was her. Dumbfounded, she tried to speak and deny, but no sound came from her throat, and the inspector was continuing.

“You have been advised by Corrections Officer Orfeo that you have the right to remain silent and not to answer any questions during today’s interview. You have also been informed that your refusal to answer questions, should you choose to exercise that right, will be noted and could be used against you in any hearing or trial that shall be ordered by the magistrate. Do you understand, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin could only nod. Her head felt heavy and she could feel the return of her panting breathing that she’d started the night before and she focused, trying to slow it down. It wouldn’t be in her best interest to pass out while she was talking to the inspector, because she didn’t know if she’d have the chance to meet with him again after today. After a monumental effort, she managed to calm herself to the point that she could listen to him once again.

Corbett saw the difficulty the girl was having, and he paused to wait for her to get control of herself. He wanted to reach out and sweep the poor girl into a hug and tell her everything was going to be all right, and that he knew that she wasn’t the one who killed the people, but images of his wife and daughter as part of a crime scene investigation invaded his mind and kept him rooted to the spot where he stood with a stony expression on his face.

“Very well,” Corbett said after he saw that she was calming again. “I am here to ask you questions about the night in question. I expect that any answer you provide will be the truth, and any attempt at prevarication – lying – will be entered into your record for consideration at any trial or hearing.”

Corbett sat down in the chair opposite Caitlin and pulled out his tablet, then spent a minute searching through the case file. He knew the contents of the file by heart, but he looked through them again, anyway, grasping for any way, any way at all, that he could find a gap in the evidence, or possibly something that he hadn’t seen before right now that would allow him to let the girl go without compromising his word to Senator Lewis. If he could find a technicality or something missing or a question that left doubt in a magistrate’s mind, then he wouldn’t really be at fault if they found her not guilty.

Meanwhile, Caitlin watched the inspector with a growing anxiety. The longer he looked at the case file, the more and more her breathing started to increase until by the time he put the tablet down, she was almost in tears and trembling violently in the chair.

Corbett looked up from his tablet at the terrified girl sitting across from him and he sighed, and then set the tablet down on the table. “Relax, Kincaid. Nothing’s going to happen here except me asking you some questions. All you have to do is answer them honestly, okay?”

Caitlin nodded and tried to still the shaking of her body. She had mixed success, managing to still the tremors, but she could feel them behind her skin ready to start back up at any moment.

“All right,” Corbett said and looked down at his tablet again. “Where were you on the night in question, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin blinked at the absurdity of the question. They knew where she was, or she wouldn’t be in all this mess, but he’d said that she should answer his questions, and even Momma Bear had told her that everything would go better if she did as she was told. “I was at my friend, Amanda’s house. It was her birthday party.”

Corbett nodded, looking down to his tablet again. “Can you tell me what happened at the party?”

Caitlin thought back and tried to remember everything. She started at the beginning, hoping that something would jog her memory about the night. She told Corbett about pulling up to the house, the music and all the cars in the yard, then about the gift that she bought for her friend. “I was excited because the truck on the sweater matched the pink truck her parents got her.”

Corbett listened while she spoke and took notes on his tablet when she said something that he found interesting or important, but he remained silent, letting her tell the story.

Caitlin continued, describing the party. She didn’t really want to get anyone in trouble, but she mentioned the alcohol and that she’d had a couple bottles of cider at the party. There was Josh as the DJ and the other friends that she’d run into while she was working around the party. Then she got to Hunter, and her story stopped for a minute.

“Everything was really normal until I ran into Hunter. After a while, things start to get really fuzzy, and then I don’t remember anything.” She shivered in her chair, blushing at the memory that she did have. Momma Bear had told her that she needed to tell him everything, but she hesitated a little about that little detail, but then she took a breath and went ahead anyway.

“Hunter and I went upstairs to the spare bedroom. Amanda let me keep some of my stuff in the closet there for when I slept over, that way I always had some of my things, even if it was a spur of the moment thing. We…” Caitlin blushed at the memory, “I mean…I think we…had sex.”

Corbett made a note on his tablet. The results from the pathologist were on his screen and he looked at the big block letters that were scrawled across her rape kit results. _INCONCLUSIVE_ , they said in large red type in almost all the blanks. The only thing that was certain was that Kincaid did have sex that night and it was likely consensual. At least now he could fill in a couple of the blanks legitimately.

Perhaps, now that she’d said who she was with, he had enough evidence that Hunter was at the party that he could at least get an interview with the kid and try to get a confession out of him. The senator couldn’t hold it against him for covering all the bases. Well, maybe he could, but it was an avenue that was worth exploring a little, anyway. Corbett was desperate to find anyway that he could put enough doubt on the case that the magistrate would have to dismiss it, but he had to do it with enough cover that it wouldn’t lead back to him.

“What happened after that, Miss Kincaid?” Corbett asked with his voice carefully neutral. He didn’t look up as he asked the question, and he tapped a few options on his pad that told it not to upload his current notes to the server. He didn’t need Lewis’ goons going through his files and finding something official that linked the Lewis kid back to the crime, so for now, he’d just let it sit on his tablet and upload it later when he got the chance.

“I don’t remember, sir,” Caitlin answered honestly. “Everything goes black after that and the next thing that I remember is waking up on the couch just before the police came.” She shivered again at the memory of waking up and looking at a room full of bodies that used to be her friends. “I don’t remember much after that, either, sir. I was really scared.”

Corbett nodded and made another note on his tablet. “So you don’t remember anything?” He was hoping that she’d remember even little flashes; something that could help him at least cast some doubt on her case. “Even the littlest thing could help, Miss Kincaid.”

Caitlin shook her head and looked down at her feet. She tried even harder to push past that black veil that descended across her memory, but nothing that she could do would lift it. There was nothing there that she could remember. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t remember anything.”

Corbett sighed and moved on, “Do you use C, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin frowned and shook her head. “I don’t do drugs, sir,” she said with a firm finality in her voice. “Never have and I never will. I’ve got a full-ride scholarship, and my parents can’t afford to pay for my college, so I ‘d never do anything that would endanger that.”

Corbett frowned, looking at the tox screen on his tablet. He knew it was false, but the doctor had signed it, and the report showed that she had C in her system.

“You’ve never even tried some?”

Caitlin shook her head firmly again. “No, sir,” she said, “not once.”

“Any idea, then, why the blood test that they did at the hospital showed that you had it in your system?” He hated asking that question, but if he hadn’t, someone would have pointed out that he missed something huge.

“No sir,” she said. The wide eyes on her face told him that she was as surprised as she should have been about the revelation. Caitlin thought back over the night, trying to remember if anyone had given her anything or if she’d taken anything, but she hadn’t even had a headache, so she didn’t even take any aspirin.

Then another thought appeared in the back of her mind. “Hunter,” she whispered.

“What’s that, Miss Kincaid?” Corbett said as he looked up from the tablet.

“Hunter went to get me another cider. Things didn’t start to go blank until after that. Could he have put something in the drink?” she asked.

“Did you go with him to get the drink?” Corbett asked.

Caitlin shook her head. “No, sir. I was on the couch listening to some music that was playing and he went to get me a refill. When he came back, the top was already off and everything.”

Corbett put his elbows on the table and leaned over his arms a little, focusing on the girl across from him. “When was this, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin thought back, “Well, it was dark out and I’d gotten there at about six, so it must have been after nine or so, sir.”

Corbett looked down between his arms at his tablet and checked his timeline. The Lewis kid must have ruffied Kincaid around nine, and then done whatever it was that he’d done. The best bet was that Hunter had been the one doing the C once Kincaid had passed out. That was probably what the Jacobs kid was so hesitant to admit.

“Do you know if Hunter did drugs, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin shook her head and frowned. “No, sir. I don’t think he did, but we broke up a few weeks before the party.”

“Why did you and Mister Lewis separate?” Corbett asked.

“I don’t know,” Caitlin said. “There was always something a little off about him. He was nice enough and he treated me okay, but every time I was around him towards the end, he was really strange, and I just didn’t really feel safe around him.”

“Do you think that he might have started using drugs, specifically C, without you knowing about it, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin shook her head, then looked up in surprise when the door was unlocked and a guard that she’d never seen before walked in. He was another big man, but the look about him spoke of more professionalism than any of the other male guards that she’d seen.

“Inspector Corbett,” the guard said, “you have a telephone call.”

Corbett sighed and picked up his tablet. “I’ll be right back, Miss Kincaid,” he said with an apologetic look on his face. Then he stood and followed the other officer out the door.

The officer closed and locked the door behind him and then guided the inspector to the next room and closed the door. Inside was the same bodyguard that he’d been sitting next to in Lewis’ car earlier in the day. The man was sitting up against the windowsill with the same dead look in his eye that he had earlier.

“Remember, Corbett,” he said menacingly, “Mister Lewis doesn’t want you looking into his kid. This whole thing needs to go away now.”

The bodyguard reached in to his pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope and handed it to Corbett. “Maybe this will give you a bit more incentive.”

Corbett took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a tight stack of green bills, all of them large denominations. He looked up at the man, his face tinged red at his anger, and then threw the envelope back in his face. “I don’t need your damned money.”

The man just laughed. “I told Lewis that you wouldn’t like the offer, but he insisted.” The man handed over a tablet with something on the screen. “Figured you’d do much better with this kind of incentive.”

Corbett took the tablet and looked at the screen. It was a live feed looking from the visor of a car into the back seat. He could make out a big man sitting in the front seat of the car, looking like he was paying attention to the road, and there, in the back seat opposite the driver, sat his wife, looking out the window with a pleasant, innocent smile on her face. The driver was in a police uniform and sunglasses.

Corbett could barely speak for the shaking in his shoulders as he tried to restrain himself. If they’d have let him keep his weapon, he might not have been so judicious, but as it was, he couldn’t shoot the bastard right here in the middle of the prison, so all he could do was hand the tablet back.

“Thought that might do the trick, inspector.” The bodyguard laughed and put the tablet back under his jacket. “You can keep the money, too, though. Take your wife out on a vacation when this is all done.”

The big man looked at the prison guard and pulled a large bill from his pocket, then slipped it into the guard’s front pocket, and then, still laughing, opened the door and walked out, closing the door to the room firmly behind him.

Corbett stared after him and finally his eyes caught the look on the guard’s face. The guard balked and lowered his head. “I’m sorry, inspector. I’ve got a family, too.”

Corbett didn’t need any more explanation of why the guard hadn’t done anything. He knew that the young officer wouldn’t say anything to support any claims that Corbett might make. Without checking the logs, he also knew that there wasn’t going to be anything on the security tapes, so anything that he could say would only be his word against a Senator’s.

He stood there in the semi-dark of the room and looked through the glass at the young girl still sitting at the table. He watched her lip tremble and her wide eyes looking around the room before falling back to her lap. “What the hell are we doing?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“The only thing we can do, Inspector,” the guard answered sadly.

Corbett continued to watch through the glass, his head swimming with ideas and schemes, but every time he landed on one that he thought would work, he saw his daughter’s face looking back at him in the reflection of the glass.

“She’s someone’s daughter, too,” he said. “I can’t let them do this.”

“If you don’t, Inspector, they’ll put you out of the picture and find someone that will.”

Corbett took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a sinking feeling in his chest. There wasn’t any way around doing what he had to do. Either choice landed him right in a place where he knew he couldn’t forgive himself. If he helped this happen and let this girl get condemned, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself or look himself in the mirror ever again, but if he didn’t, Lewis’ goons would do worse to his family, and he didn’t know if he could survive either of those options.

He stayed there and looked through the glass for a minute more, then bowed his head and walked out the door and back around to the interview room. Before he walked in, he lifted his head, squared his shoulders, and wiped all traces of the feelings from his body. When he was composed and ready, he opened the door and strode back to his chair on the other side of the table.

Caitlin watched him walk back in, curiosity on her face, but she was much too nervous to ask what the phone call was or if it was about her. The inspector didn’t seem to be in much of an explaining mood, so she just waited, heart still beating hard in her chest.

“Is there anything else that you might be able to tell me about the party, Miss Kincaid?” Corbett asked, and Caitlin noticed that there was something new in his voice, a note of resignation, as if he didn’t really care about the answer and he was just asking it for the sake of some report.

“No, sir,” she answered. “I told you everything I can remember.” She leaned over the desk and her eyes widened as she continued. “But I didn’t kill anyone,” she said frantically. “Amanda was my best friend, and I’d never hurt her, not for anything.” Her voice was rising in her fear, “I would have died to save Amanda, Inspector. And I’d have killed myself before I killed her.”

Corbett couldn’t take watching the girl’s face across the table from him with her eyes so wide and the fear and shame so prevalent on her face. He had to bow his head and look away from those eyes, and he collected his tablet and then stood.

“All right, Miss Kincaid,” he said as he stood. “I’ve got everything I need. Your hearing will be in two days’ time, I believe. Officer Orfeo will ensure that you are advised of the time and date.”

And with that, he turned and headed for the door. He didn’t have to knock; no one had locked it after he’d gone back in. Behind him, Caitlin shuddered and sobbed in the hard metal chair, watching his retreating back, trying to think of something, anything that she could do to make him realize that it hadn’t been her and that she didn’t belong here.

But she still couldn’t remember anything, and all she could do was curl up in the chair and sob.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an execution scene, be warned.

Caitlin had cried herself out by the time Orfeo came to take her back to her cell, and Orfeo said nothing about it, merely helped her gruffly to her feet as always with an arm around her shoulders, and then led her back to her small cell.

Caitlin sat on the bunk and looked across the small expanse to the cinderblock wall, not even trying to start talking with the girl in the next cell, just wanting to sit and be alone. Rising sounds drew her attention to the window. She didn’t want to look back out at the pathetic figure in the white robe again, though, and she tried to ignore them at first, but they continued.

Voices at first, and then mechanical noises began to filter in through the open window. Finally, curiosity overcame her and she stood and walked to the window. Looking down over the courtyard, she could see six officers in immaculate police dress uniforms. Five of them had rifles that were stripped down on one of the picnic tables, and they were talking amongst themselves while they cleaned the pieces. Every now and again, one would pick up a piece, wipe it down, scrub it a little with a small brush, and then wipe it down again. Caitlin could see the sunlight reflecting off the gleaming metal of the rifle parts.

The sixth man she recognized immediately. Sinclair stood away from the table by the gate to the middle courtyard. He had no rifle, but buckled along his side was a long sword in a scabbard. As with the rifle parts, Caitlin could see the sunlight sparkling off the hilt of the sword, and she could tell that it had been polished to perfection. It was a simple sword, the kind that she’d seen in old history books that the soldiers in wars past had worn while they rode on horseback into battle, and it looked anachronistic against the black police dress uniform. Something that shouldn’t belong where it was.

Sinclair stood still, leering into the center courtyard at the girl in the white robe. The girl didn’t move, didn’t look, but when Caitlin squinted and focused all the way onto her small form, she could see the fabric of the robe moving, and she could tell that the poor girl was shaking badly.

A sound drew her attention back to the picnic table and she watched the other men reassembling their rifles. The sounds of the mechanical things going back together and then the bolts working in the chambers started her shivering as well.

Then the door to the prison opened and Orfeo walked out with her little medical box. She strode right up to Sinclair. The big man had turned when he heard the door open, and Caitlin could see his leer even from her little window. Orfeo didn’t give him a moment’s pause, just walked right up to him and stared him in the face until he moved out of her way. Caitlin couldn’t help but feel a little bit of respect and gratitude for Momma Bear when she watched the way that she handled Sinclair.

Orfeo walked through the gate to the middle courtyard and closed the door behind her, and Sinclair went back to talking with the other five officers at the picnic table. Caitlin watched as Sinclair set the box down on the grass, and then opened it and rummaged around inside before she came back out with a stethoscope and holding something else in her hand.

She crossed the grass to the girl and laid her hand on her shoulder. This time, the girl didn’t move at all, she just sat there breathing. Orfeo parted the front of the white robe and gently placed the head of the stethoscope on the girl’s chest. While she was listening, she leaned in and Caitlin could see her lips moving in a whisper to the girl’s ear. While she was speaking, her other hand moved to the girl’s mouth and Caitlin could just barely see the girl open her mouth and take something from Orfeo’s hand, and then she started chewing. Weak little movements of her mouth, but she managed whatever it was that she was given and then swallowed.

Caitlin could see the small, sad little smile that Orfeo gave the girl before she stood up and put the stethoscope back in the box. Then she closed everything up and walked back out of the courtyard, stopping to only nod at Sinclair, and then she walked back through the door, not looking back and Caitlin could see the determination in her stride.

Sinclair reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets and put them on the picnic table. Every guard took one and slid it into the chamber of his weapon. The youngest officer looked pale. His hands shook as he tried to put the round in the chamber, and he ended up fumbling it and it rang off the metal table before it hit the dirt.

Sinclair turned sharply, and then took two steps to bring him right up in front of the young officer. The man stood up and stiffened to attention with his rifle at his side and said something that Caitlin couldn’t make out. Sinclair reached back and drew his hand sharply against the officer’s face in a vicious backhand slap, sending the young man reeling back off his feet and onto his backside.

Sinclair stood there as if nothing had happened while the officer collected himself off the ground, and then returned to where he was standing. Sinclair said something else to him and then walked back to the gate. The officer, meanwhile, stooped under the table and collected his dropped bullet and this time managed to get it into the chamber without dropping it.

Preparations finished, the officers lined up behind Sinclair at the gate to the center courtyard, stiffly at attention with their weapons tight at their sides.

Sinclair opened the door the central courtyard and stepped through in a march, leaving the gate open for the rest of them to follow. The young officer who’d dropped his bullet was the last one through, and he left the gate hanging open behind him.

Sinclair marched the group around to the far side of the central courtyard, and then halted and with a sharp command, the six men turned precisely to face the center. Then Sinclair took two steps forward, and then turned and marched to the center of the group. Stationed there, he turned again to face the five armed men. With a precision of movement, he drew a small microphone from his pocket and switched it on.

“Inmates of Summercliff federal prison,” Sinclair’s voice boomed from the speakers in the yard. Caitlin could also hear it coming from the public address system inside the building. “The condemned in the courtyard of building three has been found guilty of the murder of two citizens, and as such has been condemned by the magistrate.”

Caitlin finally understood what was going on and what she was witnessing. She stared out the window and watched Sinclair standing there, and she could see, even from the second story, the wide smile on his face. The man was enjoying this, and he was making it obvious to everyone.

Caitlin’s eyes were drawn to the door she’d seen Orfeo walking into, and from the window to the side, she could make out Momma Bear’s form in the window, looking out just the same as all the inmates who Caitlin could see standing at the open windows to their cells. She didn’t want to watch this, but she couldn’t find a way to take her eyes away.

“The condemned has served its seven days, and by order of the magistrate, will now be put to death.”

Sinclair slid the microphone back into his pocket and turned to the assembled officers that still stood at attention. The younger one that had fumbled earlier looked like he was going to be sick, and his eyes were riveted on the girl against the pole. He licked his lips once, then again, and Caitlin could see his panting breath through his open mouth.

Sinclair turned and walked to the girl in the center, and then grabbed her roughly by the arm to pull her to her feet.

Caitlin could see everything that happened between the guard and the girl and she watched as he slid a pair of flex cuffs around the girl’s wrists and tightened them cruelly around the skin. He leered in her face and the girl still didn’t move, or show any sign that she knew what was going on at all.

Then Sinclair took a heavy S-hook from his pocket and reached up over the girl’s head, pulling the chain from her collar taut to the top of the pole, and slid the hook through two of the chain’s links, holding the chain tight, forcing the girl to stand or choke on the collar around her neck. The girl still stood stock still, Caitlin could see an empty look in her eyes.

Sinclair lifted the girl’s hands over her head and hooked the flex cuffs into the hook above her head. When everything was secured, the reached down and parted the white robe just a ways to expose the girl’s chest. He took a small spray can and sprayed a red mark just slightly left of center on her skin, and then put the can back in the holder on his belt. Before he turned back, he leered at her once again, and slid his hand down the front of her robe and in between her legs.

Caitlin could see the change in Sinclair’s face as the girl’s lack of reaction infuriated him. He withdrew his hand and marched stiffly to the side of the line of officers.

Sinclair stopped at the far side of the line of officers and turned to face the same direction, towards the girl in the center. In a smooth, precise motion, he drew the sword from its scabbard and held it up while the blade shone in the sun. He didn’t need the microphone for his voice to carry as he gave the commands.

“Port…Arms!” he called.

The officers brought their rifles up to hold them across their chests.

“Ready!” he called.

In unison, the men turned their rifles and lodged the stocks in their shoulders, pointing the barrels at the ground slightly in front of them.

“Aim!”

Caitlin watched as time slowed to a crawl, and it seemed to take forever for the barrels to lift, and for the men to aim down the sights, each one pointed at the young girl standing there. The girl lifted her head and looked towards the sky, and for just a second, Caitlin thought that she’d looked directly at her cell, but she dismissed the thought. From the look in the girl’s eyes, it was clear that she wasn’t seeing anything.

Caitlin could hear a low humming in the background, growing in volume with every excruciating second that passed, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t just her ears, and that it was coming from the cells.

Second by second passed and time seemed frozen, and Caitlin had all the time in the world to look out over the courtyard. She could see the girl in every cell window, and she noticed that every girl that she could see had her hands pressed against the glass of their window with their fingers spread, and she moved to copy the pose. She had time to register the cool glass under her fingers and for one second, she felt as if she was a part of something that she didn’t understand.

The humming in her ears rose in volume and she could start to hear individual variations and realized that it was being made by the voices of the girls around her. She didn’t know what to do, so she merely listened and let the tone vibrate in her head while she watched the courtyard. She could see the sweat dripping down the young guard’s face and she imagined that she could hear his panting breath, slowed by her perception of the moment.

“Fire!”

The final command shattered her thoughts and with abrupt suddenness, the moment came to an end as five rifles fired in unison.

The girl at the post had just enough time for one final pain and terror-filled cry as all five rounds found the center of the mark that was made on her chest. Caitlin jumped and she couldn’t help the sob that sounded from her throat as she saw the bullets tear into and through her body. Blood poured from the girl’s chest and back and she slumped down, held up only by the collar around her neck and her hands bound high above her head.

Caitlin could see the smoke rising from the five- no, she realized- the four rifles. The young officer who had looked so scared and sick hadn’t fired.

Sinclair noticed this almost at the same time and he sheathed his sword, and then took three angry paces behind the assembled line, all of whom stayed in their firing positions, holding there without moving an inch. The big man reached around the younger one and pulled the rifle hard against the officer’s shoulder with Sinclair’s hands over the officer’s on the rifle trigger and hand guard.

He took only a second to make the young officer aim, and finally the fifth shot rang out, this one directly on target for the girl’s head. Caitlin couldn’t suppress the scream that came out of her mouth as the top of the girl’s head came apart in the force of the round. She shook violently and she watched as the young man finally broke ranks and sank to his knees, vomiting and retching on the grass.

Sinclair held on to the officer’s rifle and ejected the round, then tossed the rifle at the young officer’s feet with a contemptuous look. Then he resumed his position at the end of the line.

When the shock cleared her brain and the ringing in her ears stopped, Caitlin could once again hear the tones of the other girls’ voices, rising and falling in a haunting melody. It had no words, but the strength of the music tore sobs from Caitlin’s throat and made her put her hands back on the glass once again.

Sinclair pretended not to notice the singing and he waited for the other officer to regain his feet, holding the entire detail in their firing position until he had.

“Port…Arms!” he called.

Again the rifles were brought across the officers’ bodies.

As if this duty happened every day, he gave the commands to turn the detail back to the gate and he marched them out of the central courtyard and through the open door to the prison, leaving the girl’s body hanging limp and lifeless at the pole, her blood soaking the white robe to turn it a deep, dark red.


	13. Chapter 13

Corbett sat at his desk in the squad room, going over the notes that he’d made on his tablet during his interview with the Kincaid girl. There was so much information that the girl had given him that he couldn’t look into. His mind kept going back to the vision of her staring into his eyes, and he could still feel the fear and the sadness that he saw behind her eyes when they’d met his.

She’d known that Amanda Brighton was among the dead and when he told her, the pain that crossed her face had been very real. If he was working this case the way he was supposed to be, he’d be looking at all the angles, including the senator’s son.

His eyes crossed back and forth across the case file that he still hadn’t uploaded to the system, reading the same line over and over again as his brain traveled different paths down which he could find no answers. He had to figure out a way to upload the notes from his interview in a way that wouldn’t implicate any of Senator Lewis’ family, but he couldn’t push himself to actually delete the notes or alter the recording.

He could simply lose the recording. That part was easy, but in all his years as a police officer and then an inspector, he’d never once tampered with evidence or filed something that he didn’t fully endorse as his own word. His career had been impeccable, and everyone knew that he stood by his word. It had gained him trust and appreciation from the prosecutors and also from the magistrates, and even, on rare occasions, from the defenders that sometimes worked the cases. They all recognized that he didn’t have any motive to seeing their clients where they were, just that he was scrupulously honest and fair, and if he put something on paper, then it happened that way.

And here he was, thinking about throwing that all down the tubes. And not just for a traffic ticket or some disturbing the peace charge. No, this was a capital case that would have the whole country watching the outcome. Already the news cameras and vans had set up a makeshift camp outside the department, all clamoring on about the girl who’d killed seven of her friends in a house in the hills. _Hell,_ he thought, _they don’t even care if she’s guilty or not, they just want someone to put on the front page as the lead story._

He’d learned long ago not to watch the news about a case he was working on. Most of the time, they got the facts wrong or distorted, and about half the time they said or did something that almost made him lose his cool. The man who trained him as an inspector had given him that piece of advice and every time that he went against it, he always felt sorry for doing so. This case was no different. He’d avoided turning on the television over the last few days, so all he had in front of him were the facts on his tablet, and his mind wasn’t filled with wild speculation and rumor that the television stations all seemed to spew out.

He read the line in his case report again, for what seemed like the twentieth time, but he still couldn’t get past it. His fingers tapped on the desk as he considered and pondered. Lewis had said that his chief would be his backup and his shield, and by that little comment, Corbett knew that the Senator had gotten to the chief. If he went along with the senator, then there probably wouldn’t be any professional repercussions, and the chief would shield him from any ethics probes or investigations, but that didn’t change the fact that he would still have violated what he thought was the most important thing, his personal integrity.

Once again, his eyes skimmed the same line and he finally put the tablet on the desk with a frustrated grunt. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. How could he just give up what he worked so hard to earn? There wasn’t a person in the office, he was sure, that wouldn’t do what Lewis asked if their family’s lives were at stake.

His eyes drifted across the desk to the little framed picture of his daughter that sat in the corner. It was a picture of his little girl taken at her last birthday party and her smiling face beamed out of the frame at him. He’d been so happy that day, watching the little girl at her party with all her friends. She’d been happy and playful and the drama of teenage years was still a long way off. She still thought that having your dad arrange for the police force silent drill team to perform at the party was the best thing ever. She’d sat with wide eyes watching the precision movements and the amazing choreography in amazement.

Corbett sat at the desk, memory casting back to that day. He sat behind his daughter watching the same performance with a swelling of pride that he belonged to this professional and important piece of society. In his mind’s eye, his daughter turned around to face him, smile on her face. But wait, she wasn’t smiling and that wasn’t his daughter. Instead the Kincaid girl’s face stared back at him with that sad and terrified look.

He blinked once, then again, and the memory faded, leaving him in the squad room again, still with no answers. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, covering his face with his hands.

“Everything all right, Inspector?” said the man at the desk off to his right. Corbett tried to remember the man’s name. After a second it came to him. It was Sylvester. He was younger than Corbett and he wore his hair in a crew cut, reminiscent of Corbett’s days in the military. The kid was still ambitious and eager to prove himself. He reminded Corbett of a younger him. The chief had put him at that desk so that he might learn something from the grizzled older inspector, but Corbett hadn’t had time to really sit down and talk to the kid.

“Yeah,” Corbett said, “just stuck on a case.”

“Well, you want another set of eyes?” Sylvester asked.

Corbett shook his head. “No, but thanks. I’m just tired and I think it’s all just floating around in my head too much. Need some more coffee.”

Sylvester shrugged and turned back to his own desk with a smile, and soon the sound of typing resumed, blending in to the background of sounds that filled the room. Corbett listened to the background noise for a few minutes before he sighed again, and then picked up his tablet and slid it into its holster. Maybe he would go see about a cup of coffee. He hadn’t had one since this morning, and it looked like it was going to be a long afternoon and evening.

As he walked down the hall to the cafeteria, he started to think about everything that he’d figured out so far. From what he could piece together, the Brighton girl had a party and invited a number of her friends from school. Kincaid was Brighton’s best friend, and so, of course, she’d be there. There were the other kids that he’d talked to over the last day, and then there were the deceased. The information that he got from the official reports all pointed to Kincaid, but after his visit with the doctor and then with Lewis, it was clear that if he could dig down deep enough, he’d find that nothing matched up.

As to what really happened, he couldn’t find a motive for Hunter killing the other kids. The kid went to the party, drugged his ex-girlfriend, and then…murders everyone. Something just didn’t fit in with the timeline. Hunter must be the one with the C in his system, but Corbett still couldn’t find a reason for him to take it when he did. Why didn’t he take it earlier? Or later? Why drug the Kincaid girl? Too many unanswered questions.


	14. Chapter 14

Caitlin stood at her cell window and looked out over the courtyard. She hadn’t moved from that spot since the firing squad had done their duty and executed the girl in the white robe. As she looked down at the courtyard now, she could still see the figure hanging from the post. There was no white robe any more. It was a deep red, almost black, soaked through with the girl’s blood.

She still couldn’t take her eyes away, and for some reason, she felt that she owed it to that girl that she didn’t know to sit and bear witness for everything that happened. She could see one of the girls across the yard and on the first floor looking through her window with the same look that Caitlin could imagine was on her face. Neither met the other’s glance, and both eyes were fixed squarely on that figure at the post.

The door opened and two men in white uniforms came through with a wheeled stretcher. On the stretcher was a black fabric bag that Caitlin recognized immediately. They moved with professional speed across the concrete and to the central yard. The first one stopped in front of the girl and pulled a tool from his belt, and then cut the flex cuffs around the girl’s wrists. Her arms flopped down to her sides and it took both of the men to lift her enough that they could get the S-hook out from behind her head.

Then they eased her body to the ground while the first pulled another tool from his belt. This one he pressed to the collar around the girl’s neck and it sprang open almost the instant the tool had touched it. Caitlin watched in shock as the first man picked up the girl’s body and almost tossed it onto the stretcher, like he was tossing a sack of garbage into the back of a truck. His face had the look that matched the gesture. The look that said he was handling something noxious and foul. No respect was offered whatsoever, even in her death.

“Her name was Lilly.”

Caitlin squeaked in surprise and spun around to see Orfeo staring at her from the other side of the bars. Orfeo’s face was ragged and she had little lines under her eyes.

Caitlin frowned. “What?” she asked.

“You asked who she was,” Orfeo said. “Her name was Lilly. She was nineteen.”

Caitlin remained silent and looked at the guard through the bars. Orfeo’s shoulders were slumped and she stooped a bit. There was a look on her face that went beyond sad. It was bordering on the look that Caitlin had seen on Lilly’s face when she’d looked closer. The look that said she’d given up.

“I’ve seen twenty girls at that post, Kincaid, and I remember the name of every single one.”

Though her words didn’t reflect it, Caitlin could see the pain on the guard’s face and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

“Some of them really were guilty, but some of them, like Lilly, just got caught up in something they didn’t understand.”

Orfeo reached into her pocket and drew out her keycard, then slid it through the reader on the wall to open the cell door. When it was open, she stepped inside and it closed automatically behind her. She took the two steps to the bunk and sat down, then invited Caitlin to sit next to her.

Caitlin looked at her dumbly for a moment before she moved across the cell and sat. She could feel Orfeo’s body so near hers, but she didn’t move away.

Orfeo wasn’t paying her any attention, just looking with glazed eyes at the cinderblock wall across from the bunk, and Caitlin waited for her to collect her thoughts.

“Lilly was a sweet girl, Kincaid. She was as well-mannered as you are, and I couldn’t ever get her to stop calling me ma’am.”

Orfeo lowered her head to her chest.

“I can’t believe that she did what they said she did, but they found every scrap of evidence against her, and it was enough.”

Caitlin watched, confused and curious about the look of pain on Orfeo’s face. “If she didn’t do it, then why was she out there at the pole, Momma Bear?”

Orfeo shook her head and reached a hand up to wipe at her eyes.

“I don’t know, Kincaid. But something was going on behind the scenes with her.”

“Why are you telling me, Momma Bear? I thought they weren’t supposed to have names. Won’t you get in trouble for telling me?”

Orfeo turned her eyes to the girl sitting next to her. “I want you to know, Caitlin,” she said.

Caitlin’s eyes widened. It was the first time that she’d ever heard the guard use her first name.

“I want you to know that there’s someone who remembers the names. They needed to know that there was someone who would remember them.”

Caitlin could hear the message behind her words. Orfeo wanted her to know that if she ended up out there with no name and no history, being treated like trash, that there would be someone who would remember her name and help make sure that she wasn’t forgotten.

Caitlin wanted to reach out and hug the guard, but she held herself back, afraid that Orfeo wouldn’t like it. Instead she bowed her head. “Thank you, Momma Bear.”

Orfeo nodded. “I came to tell you one more thing, Kincaid.”

Caitlin raised her head from her chest and looked at the guard curiously.

“I called your parents when you were brought in, and told them where you were and that you were safe. I’ve arranged for them to visit you tomorrow if you’d like.”

Caitlin couldn’t believe what she was hearing and she couldn’t hold back from reaching out and wrapping her arms around Orfeo. The guard didn’t respond, just sat there and let Caitlin hug her, but she didn’t push her away either. “Thank you, Momma Bear,” Caitlin choked out around the tears that had started to form in her eyes.

“That’ll do, girl,” Orfeo said as she extricated herself from Caitlin’s embrace. She stood up and smoothed out her uniform, and by the time she looked up at Caitlin again, her face had returned to the impassive but slightly friendly look she usually had on. “They’ll be here tomorrow morning, and I’ll come find you when they get here.”

Then she turned on her feet and walked towards the door. It opened when she got close and closed automatically behind her. Then she turned once again and looked back in at Caitlin. “Don’t go losing hope, girl. You’re not in the white robe yet.”

Then she turned and headed down the aisle, and Caitlin could hear her greeting and bantering with the other girls as she went.

Caitlin stood and walked back to the window and looked at the empty pole with the open collar lying in the bloodstained grass, and for the first time, she felt a bit of hope. It wasn’t much, like a lone flower in a field of weeds, but it was there, and she held onto it as tightly as she could.


	15. Chapter 15

Corbett sat back at his desk with his cup of coffee in his hands while he finished his reports for the case. Little by little, he worked the story that he was supposed to tell into the reports, painting a picture of a young teenage girl who decided to try C for the first time becoming homicidal and killing her friends. He worked in the lab results and added them to the evidentiary files along with the reports from the first crime scene unit who matched the girl’s finger prints to those found on the knife. When he finished, he started looking back over the narratives, making sure that everything added up and that he wasn’t leaving anything out that the magistrate might find fault with.

Through the whole thing, he couldn’t find a way to make his conscience stop berating him for what he was doing. It sat there in the back of his mind, pulling and tugging and trying to get his attention. Try as he might to ignore it, he just couldn’t and every time that he looked up from his writing, he saw his daughter’s picture on the corner of his desk, and the picture of him, his wife, and his daughter all in the frame from a vacation taken the year before sitting on the edge of the desk next to the first. They stared at him accusingly, the innocent and happy smiles looking out at him through the glass of the frames boring into his soul.

Finally, he stopped typing and sat back, staring at those pictures. What would he do if it was his daughter involved here? The Kincaid girl didn’t know anything about what was going on behind the scenes, and she didn’t remember anything that had happened through the entire night. And now, forces beyond her control were railroading her down the system with not a care in the world for her or her family.

He growled softly in his throat and pulled his coat from the chair he was sitting in.   “Anyone needs me, I’m out on an interview,” he told Sylvester, who was still sitting at his desk, typing studiously away at some report or another.

Sylvester raised a hand and waved lightly before he turned his head to look at Corbett. “Enjoy, inspector.”

Corbett didn’t know what he expected in response from the younger investigator. From the way that he was feeling about himself at the moment, he wouldn’t have blinked an eye if the other man had turned in his chair, raised his finger into the air, pointed at him and damned him to an eternity of torment for what he was doing. _But that’s pretty damn stupid, Corbett,_ he thought, _It’s not like anyone knows what’s going on._

Lewis had his goons really high up through the police hierarchy, but he couldn’t have gotten to everyone. There was a pretty good chance that a new investigator like Sylvester wasn’t on the senator’s payroll.

Corbett nodded and walked out the door to the car. He had someplace he had to visit. If he did what the senator wanted him to do, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t take at least this one little bit of effort. He was going to talk to the girl’s parents.

\-------------------------------------------

The house was what you’d expect from the neighborhood, a quiet and tidy little two-story cottage on a decently sized lot. There was a well-kept yard out front with a flower box full of blooming flowers outside the front door. Corbett pulled up in front, and sat in the car, looking at the front door of the house, expecting any minute for it to open and for the distraught parents of the Kincaid girl to come rushing out after him.

He wouldn’t blame them in the slightest if they did, but they didn’t know what was going on any more than the girl did. In fact, they probably knew even less.

Minutes passed as he sat in the car just looking at the door. Nothing that he said to himself would make him feel any better about what he was doing, and there was still the ongoing line in the back of his head that was trying to find a way out. What would he do if it was his family? Would he want to know what was going on?

He took a breath and finally stepped out of his car and walked up the driveway to the door. He raised his hand and knocked heavily, noting how quiet the neighborhood was when his knocking echoed both through the house and down the street. Then the sound faded and there was silence again.

After a moment, he heard the rhythmic thump of footsteps approaching the other side of the door and it opened with a large, imposing figure standing behind it.

The man that stood there was several inches taller than Corbett and he was dressed in casual clothes, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were rumpled and worn, and as Corbett looked up into the man’s face, he could see that the look of the clothing was matched by the look in the man’s eyes. They had dark, puffy marks beneath them and it looked as if the man hadn’t slept for days.

Corbett couldn’t speak for a moment, caught by the look of worry and anxiety on the man’s face, and he couldn’t find any words that seemed adequate for what was going on.

“Mister Kincaid?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” the man answered, “I’m Jeremy Kincaid.” There was something flat in his voice, and Corbett could hardly blame him. The events of the previous day had to have taken their toll on him.

“I’m Inspector Corbett. I’m the investigator assigned to your daughter’s case.”

Kincaid looked down his nose at Corbett and something filtered into his face. For a moment, the look that shone down was one of pure hatred and malice, but it was quickly controlled after Kincaid blinked.

“What do you need, inspector?” he asked. The tone was clearly hopeful. The man was hoping that Corbett was here to try to help his daughter out of the mess she was in. Corbett wished that it were true instead of the other way around.

“May I speak with you and your wife for a bit? I have some questions.”

“I thought that you people never talked to the accused’s family,” Kincaid growled, suspicion high in his voice.

“Normally, we don’t, but this case is kind of an exception,” Corbett said.

Kincaid stepped back from the door and opened it wider for the inspector with a half-hearted gesture that said ‘come in,’ then turned on his heels and walked down the hallway. From the look on the man’s frame, Corbett could tell that he wouldn’t care if he left the door hanging wide open, but when he stepped inside, he closed the heavy thing behind him. It made less sound than it should, Corbett mused. It should have been the ominous closing of a heavy oaken door, or perhaps the slamming of the door on a dungeon.

He followed Kincaid down the hallway to a large living room, tastefully furnished with enough seating that it was clear the Kincaids entertained occasionally. Sitting on the beige overstuffed couch was a smaller lady. She was dressed simply in a pair of sweatpants and a sweat shirt, and Corbett could see the clear resemblance to her daughter as he looked at her. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she was turned to look out the window to the back yard, so Corbett caught her face in profile. It made him stop for a moment at the look of pure loss and hopelessness on her face.

He stood just inside the doorway and looked around the rest of the room, wanting to see something else besides the look on Ms. Kincaid’s face.

All around the room were framed pictures of the family. Corbett could recognize Caitlin’s mother and father, and Caitlin herself in some of the photos, along with Caitlin’s older sister. The information he’d gotten at the beginning of the case had said that she had one sister who was away at school. From the look of the pictures, Caitlin and her sister were quite close. In some of the other pictures, Caitlin stood with Amanda Brighton, smiling brightly and happily.

He crossed to what looked like the most recent family portrait and stared at the picture for a moment, seeing the eyes of his own family looking out at him, and again he felt the crushing, guilt-laden accusatory stare and felt the condemnation in his soul.

He closed his eyes and turned back around to face the Kincaids. Mister Kincaid was sitting on the couch next to his wife with his arm wrapped around her. Neither one spoke, and she just continued to look out the window to the yard. Mr. Kincaid gestured to a big chair across the coffee table, inviting him rather grudgingly to take a seat.

When Corbett sat down, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked across at the distraught family. “Is that Caitlin’s sister there in that picture?” he asked. He realized that it was the first time that he’d ever thought of the Kincaid girl as something more than just ‘the Kincaid girl.’ He didn’t like to think of his perpetrators in terms that made them more human. For the most part, they weren’t like the rest of society, and they didn’t deserve to be thought of as people. At least that’s what his mentor had taught him.

“Yeah,” Jeremy answered. “That’s Sarah. She’s coming home tomorrow for…” his voice broke and he bowed his head, not able to finish the sentence.

Corbett nodded. “I have a few questions for you both, if you don’t mind talking with me for a few minutes.”

Jeremy lifted his head and stared at the inspector with suspicion clear on his face. “Do I need to have a lawyer, inspector?”

Corbett shook his head. “Mister Kincaid, my investigation is mostly complete. I just have a couple of questions. There’s not a lot you could say that would make your daughter’s situation worse.” He had to be honest about at least that part. “She’s in really serious trouble.”

Kincaid nodded and hugged his wife a little closer. The smaller lady had begun sobbing when Corbett had admitted that Caitlin was in trouble. Corbett wanted nothing more than to stand up, walk across the table and comfort her, but there was no comfort to be offered.

Corbett could only watch as Jeremy Kincaid offered what support he could to the sobbing woman and as he watched, something shifted inside and he felt tears welling up in his own eyes. He blinked a few times, but it didn’t help. What he was doing was wrong and there wasn’t any way that he could make it right. If he did this, he’d never look at himself in the mirror again, and there would be no way that he could even live with himself.

He couldn’t be heartless enough to sit and watch the pain and suffering of this family. They likely didn’t know what was on the line for her daughter. The government kept the details of what happened to the condemned rather sketchy, but the threat was there. Generally only the people in the prisons and the men and women on the police force had any idea what the condemned went through. How much worse for them if they knew, but their pain was real enough for him.

He tried in vain to stop the tears from flowing down his face and he stood and started walking to the door. “Please forgive me, Mister Kincaid. I shouldn’t have come.”

Jeremy stood and followed after Corbett, silent until they got to the front door. The big man put a hand on the door to keep Corbett from opening it while he looked intently down at the inspector. “You came by for a reason, inspector. Tell me why.”

Corbett stood there with his hand on the door knob and his head turned away from Kincaid, and then finally looked up in to the man’s eyes. Kincaid looked shocked at the tears there, and his eyes softened a little.

“I can’t tell you everything, Mister Kincaid,” he said, “but I don’t think your daughter is guilty.”

Kincaid frowned, “You’re the investigator on the case. If you don’t think she’s guilty, then she’ll be coming home, right?”

“No,” Corbett admitted with a sigh. “All the evidence that we’ve found says that she’s guilty.”

Corbett could see the confusion in Kincaid’s face and he continued. “Look, I can’t tell you what’s going on right now, but I really am working on figuring out what happened that night, and if your daughter really isn’t guilty, then I’ll do everything I can to get her back to you.”

There was conviction in his voice as he said that, and he knew that he had just crossed a line that would not end well for him, but he couldn’t sit around and let the girl be railroaded down the tracks to her death. There was no way for him to reconcile that with the rest of his integrity. No matter what it cost him, he’d find a way to get Caitlin home.

Kincaid took his hand off the door and opened it for the inspector. There was still a look of confusion in his eyes, but he nodded. “Thank you, inspector.”

Corbett said nothing. There wasn’t anything he could say, so he nodded and then turned and walked out the door.

He retrieved his tablet from his pocket as he walked and it was on and opened to the case file by the time he was sitting in the car. He planned on taking a moment to get all his facts in order before he moved on, but a message appeared on the screen that made his heart sink straight to the leather seat of the car.

> Corbett –
> 
> Saw your case file hadn’t been submitted for the Kincaid case, so I got it all uploaded for you. Magistrate says trial tomorrow afternoon. He wants this thing done and over with so they’re bumping your case to the head of the line. Louie sends his regards.
> 
> -CPT Mitchell.

Corbett could only stare in shock at the note from the captain. He’d left the case file open on his computer in the station, and Mitchell must have taken it off his computer even though he hadn’t uploaded it. Bile rose in his throat as he realized that it was the file that basically had Kincaid’s guilt stamped all across the pages in big, bold letters.

They were going to use that case file at the trial tomorrow. And there was no way that the magistrate would find any other verdict than the one the senator wanted.

Corbett slid the tablet into its holder while a new determination rose on his face. It meant he had less than seven days to figure out how to get Caitlin home to her family.


	16. Chapter 16

Caitlin sat in the same spot in the yard while the other girls spent their yard time in motion around her. She didn’t feel like moving at all, even after being locked in the small cell for the last two days. She watched as some of them played basketball on the court on the far side of the yard, while others did their own thing in other parts. Still, though, her eyes kept coming back to dark stain on the grass in the middle courtyard.

As she stared, she could see a girl on the far side of the yard sitting almost exactly like her on a bench against the wall, eyes also fixed on that spot on the grass. Caitlin watched the girl and when she paid attention, she could see the girl’s shoulders shaking in what had to be sobs. The other girls left her alone just as they did Caitlin, and it made her wonder.

Finally, she stood and made her way around the yard, avoiding the basketball game. She sat next to the other girl. She was a petite brunette about her age and complexion, dressed as she was in a blue jumpsuit and white socks with straight hair that hung down to her shoulders, despite the fact that all the other girls had their hair up in buns. Caitlin could see the shine of her wet cheeks while she stared sadly at the grass in the central yard.

“I’m Caitlin,” she said softly as she sat.

“Poppy,” the girl said, not taking her eyes off the grass.

“I saw you yesterday,” Caitlin said, looking over at the girl’s face. “Did you know Lilly?”

Poppy’s head snapped up at the mention of the name and she looked in wide-eyed shock at Caitlin. “How did you know her name?”

Caitlin held up her hands in a gesture of peace and regarded the other girl with a confused look. “Momma Bear told me. How did you?”

Poppy’s face softened and she turned back to looking at the grass. “She was my friend,” she said through tears falling from her eyes. “We were friends outside.”

Caitlin thought about that for a minute as her eyes wandered around the yard. For the most part, the other girls were ignoring the two of them, and she had to wonder, because it seemed that everyone in the yard got along with everyone else. All the dramas on television that she saw had everyone fighting all the time, but here, no one seemed angry with anyone else, and it was more like being in a well-ordered boarding school. At the door to the yard, Orfeo looked out over the group with her watchful eye.

“You knew Lilly before you got here?” Caitlin asked.

Poppy nodded. “We were best friends.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened in understanding. If this girl was best friends with Lilly, then…

“Were you at the store with her?”

Poppy nodded again. “We were both there.”

“So you saw what happened. Did she really kill two people?”

Poppy shook her head and looked down at her toes. “No, she didn’t. I did.”

Caitlin felt like she’d been struck. She sat up a little straighter with a look of disbelief on her face. Poppy saw it and scoffed. “It doesn’t take a big person to shoot someone.”

“But…why?” Caitlin couldn’t understand.

“We were broke. We’d been on the streets together for a year and everything that we had was gone. We couldn’t even find anyone to fuck us for money and we were starving.” Poppy looked up at the far wall and her eyes glazed as she remembered back. “We went to a little store down the block from where we were sleeping, and all we wanted was a sandwich or two. But the guy, he pulled a gun from behind the counter and he pointed it at Lilly.”

The girl’s face hardened as she continued. “I was so scared that he was going to shoot Lilly, so I jumped at him and grabbed it. It was just a second, and then there was a really loud bang and he was on the ground bleeding.”

Poppy shuddered and her hands found each other in her lap and she started rubbing her thumbs up and down along the backs of her hands. “Another man came in and saw what we did, and I couldn’t get arrested and leave Lilly, so I pointed the gun at him and I shot him. Then we ran away.”

Caitlin watched all the emotion play over Poppy’s face and she reached out tentatively to lay a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell them?” she asked with a hint of accusation in her voice.

“I did, but they didn’t want to listen to me. They said that the evidence said that we both did it. The only reason she was there was because we were hungry and she wouldn’t stay behind.”

“Wait, they said you both did it?”

Poppy nodded. “My trial is tomorrow.”

Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat and she looked down at Poppy. Suddenly, things made sense. Her at the window like Caitlin, the other girls leaving them alone when everyone else was getting friendly. They all knew that it was only a matter of time before they saw one or both of them out in the yard.

“They put Lilly in this yard instead of another one because of me. They knew that I killed those guys, but they wanted me to watch Lilly pay for it before I went to trial,” Poppy said with a shiver. “Sinclair came to my cell and he told me that when he locked her out there.”

Caitlin nodded. That sounded a lot like Sinclair. Why punish just one person when you can torture two at a time? “Poppy, I’m sorry.”

Poppy shook Caitlin’s hand angrily from her shoulder and glared at her. “Sorry don’t help, girl.”

Poppy stood up and glared down at Caitlin. “Now you know why I did it, why did you?”

Caitlin was speechless in the face of the other girl’s anger and she stuttered. “I can’t remember if I did or not,” she said as she looked down, away from the accusatory stare. “I don’t remember anything from that night. “

“They must have gotten you pretty good if they’re putting you in front of the Mag’ so quick,” Poppy said.

Caitlin shrugged. “The inspector said that I was on drugs and that’s what caused it, but I’ve never done anything like that in my life.” She didn’t mention the thoughts that she had about Hunter. She still didn’t want to believe that her lover and her friend could have drugged her so that she’d kill everyone at the party. Even as a prank, she couldn’t seem to figure it out.

“You don’t do C?” Poppy asked. “All the newsies sayin’ you do.”

Caitlin shook her head with her eyes still cast down to her feet. “I haven’t even ever lit up a cigarette,” she said.

Poppy eyed her through narrowed eyelids and then nodded. “I believe you,” she said as she sat back down. Together, they looked out over the yard, not saying much.

Slowly, Poppy’s arm crept around Caitlin’s shoulders and before long, Caitlin did the same. “Don’t worry, Caitlin,” Poppy said. “Momma Bear remembers everyone. She’ll remember you.”

Caitlin couldn’t think of anything to say, and as if they’d planned it, both girls wrapped their arms around each other and they sat for the rest of their yard time sobbing on each other’s shoulders.


	17. Chapter 17

Corbett didn’t return to the station right away after his visit at the Kincaid’s. The pictures in the house and the way they felt made him realize that he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try to do something. Even though he knew that it might cost him everything, there was no way that he could let the Kincaid girl die.

He had to take care of a few things first, though.

He took a side trip to a grocery store that he’d seen driving down. Inside, he stopped to pick up a case of canned food and some other odds and ends - batteries, flashlights, lighters, and a carton of cigarettes.   
He walked out with all of it in bags and tossed it in the trunk. While it was open, he pulled out something that he’d never thought he’d have to use. A silver bag the size of a plastic grocery bag that a friend had given him a long time ago was stored in a pocket of his duty bag, and he pulled it out. He withdrew his tablet, turned it off, then put it in the bag, and then he did the same thing with his phone. With the bag closed, it should block any signals that the electronics would be sending.

He pulled out of the parking lot and started driving to the south side of town. There weren’t too many places that he could go that didn’t know him, or that he could be sure that he was out of range of Lewis’ goons. The south side, though, was the seedy, wretched part of town. It was also about the only part of town that still had pay phones on the corner. Some sort of initiative had been proposed not too long before that wanted to finally remove all the phones, but the residents had made such a demonstration that it fell very short of what it needed to pass. A lot of the people that lived in that part of town didn’t even have phones in their homes, so sometimes it was the only way that they could call for help.

Not that any help ever really came down here. Some of the neighborhoods had been blacklisted, and cops and firefighters wouldn’t ever respond, no matter what the call was. Some brave medical techs sometimes banded together to run a call or two into the slums, but for the most part the people down here were on their own.

As he crossed the bridge over the river that separated the normal part of town from the undesirable part, he noticed a car behind him. It was an old, beat up station wagon that had the hood tied down with about a pound of duct tape, and it really didn’t look out of place for where he was headed, but what it was doing on the other side of the bridge, he couldn’t say, and something about it made him keep a close eye on it as he drove.

His route took him deeper into the slums and when he looked back into his rear view mirror, he saw the same car following him even through all the winding turns. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he sped up, still staying close to the speed limit, and he started making right turns, moving randomly around the blocks, taking the first right, then another right two turns down, then again until he was back on his original street heading the same way he was.

The car wasn’t back behind him and he started to relax until he took another look in the mirror. The junker turned around the corner into sight again and Corbett had to assume that they knew he was onto them and they didn’t care. It was time for some drastic measures.

He thought back to his days on patrol. He’d spent a good deal of time in the not-quite-blacklisted parts of the slums, and he still knew the place by heart and his mind reached back to where he could go. It only took a minute before an idea crept into his head. A grin lit his face and he pressed down on the accelerator, not caring any more if he was being obvious or not.

Another few turns and many blocks later, he could see the junker behind him keeping up and he waited until the very last minute to hang a left into an alley. When he drove through the slums as a young rookie cop, he learned that some of the businesses and the tenements kept their dumpsters in exactly the same spot every single day and they’d berate the poor trash men who dared to move it even a foot from where it was.

He was counting on that when he turned into the familiar alley and he wasn’t disappointed. He widened his turn to avoid the first dumpster, and then turned sharply to miss the second. He knew that he only had a split second before he had to turn the wheel hard to the other side, and it had to be precise or he’d hit the third, but his timing was still absolutely perfect and he cleared the third without even a scratch on his rear view mirror and he was out the other side of the alley onto the next street over. As he turned down the street he heard the squealing of locked up tires and a crash behind him and he mashed the accelerator to the floor and sped down the road, taking another turn before anyone could get out of the pursuit car and see where he went.

Heart beating high in his chest, he finally eased back down until he was back beneath the speed limit. He wasn’t worried about getting pulled over out here in the slums, but he’d always worked hard to maintain a good relationship with the people that lived down here. Too many of the officers considered this area of town to be a punishment posting and they treated the residents like trash. It made all of them suspicious of cops, but one thing that he noticed while he was assigned here was that the folks who lived down in the south side tended to look at people as individuals, and they didn’t judge every single cop by the actions of the bad ones. He’d made some friends that lived here and he still kept up with them on occasion. And right now, he was counting on someone’s friendship.

He took the long, circuitous route to a tenement building, ensuring that he wasn’t being followed again, and then parked the car a couple blocks away and looked out the window at the building. It was a five story building with the siding coming loose in many places. The roof looked like it was a good snow storm from caving in, and even from the car, he could see that it would leak in a hard rain. The shingles were peeling and falling to the ground outside. Some of the windows were boarded up and others just showed the signs of many years of wear. He knew that the buildings were owned by some of the people in the West Hills, the neighborhood the Kincaids lived in. The people there were so concerned about money and appearances of their own places that they didn’t give one whit for the people that lived in their shoddy rental units.

Not that they ever really knew what was going on in the buildings, anyway. They always hired a management company, and there were only so many that would manage a property in this part of town, so they got to step back and say that they didn’t know what the company was doing while they got the monthly income that came along with renting out fifty or sixty units.

He got out of the car and pulled the bag with the cigarettes out of the trunk, and then he walked hurriedly down the street, keeping his eyes on the alleyways and the abandoned storefronts. Then he crossed the street and almost jogged to the door, where he scanned the names on the mailboxes just outside. It took a moment, but he found the one he wanted. He was going to press the button on the wall to ring the buzzer, but when he went to push it, he noticed that there wasn’t a cover plate, and the wires inside were mostly hanging out with some missing. Apparently the copper scavengers had hit the outside of the building.

He tried the door and it opened. Security was going down a little since the last time he’d been out here, and he wondered if there was something he could do to help his friend here with the building. But the thought was quickly pushed out of his mind by the smell that assaulted his nose when the door opened.

Just inside the door were three transients, covered in lumpy grey clothing and blankets, and it smelled like they hadn’t bathed in most of their lives. They also looked as if they hadn’t even bothered to get up to use the restroom. Corbett covered his nose and walked by them to the stairs, trying to breathe through his mouth and not pay any attention to the horrid stench that was making his eyes water.

He took the stairs two at a time up the four flights to the third floor. Even with the time that he spent behind the desk, Corbett was pleased with his level of fitness. He never wanted to be one of the desk jockeys with the gut so big that it hung out over their belt. He still worked out every day, and he made it to the floor he wanted without even breathing too heavily.

Another door opened to a long hallway with doors lining both sides. The smell wasn’t nearly as bad in the hallway, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him. The walls in the hall used to be white, but after years of neglect by the manager, they’d turned a sooty, nicotine-stained grayish yellow. The doors were in the same state. Most were closed, but from a quick glance, some of them couldn’t stay closed and others hung open on little security chains. Smoke drifted through some of the open doors, and Corbett could smell the distinctive tang of tobacco and other, less savory things.

He started walking down the hallway and as he passed, curious eyes looked out of some of the open doors, and he could see the telltale flickering from the peepholes in other doors that said people were curious about him. He smiled at a little girl that peeked around one of the doors, but the girl just stared at him.

The apartment he was looking for was at the far end of the hallway, and by the time he got there, a series of slammed doors had already announced his arrival. The door opened just as he stepped in front of it, and a suspicious face looked out through the cracks. The man looking at him from the doorway looked a lot older than he was, and the lines beneath his eyes told of experiences that had aged him prematurely. When he smiled, most of his teeth were missing and the ones he still had were stained yellow.

Corbett smiled a friendly smile and held up the carton of cigarettes in front of him.

The man sniffed loudly and blinked at Corbett a moment before recognition dawned on his face. He let out a wheezy laugh, followed closely by a rheumy cough.

“By the gods, it’s Ricky! Ricky C.” The man laughed again and let the door open on its hinges while he hobbled inside. “Heard some dude shot you in the nuts, Ricky.”

Corbett laughed and walked into the apartment on the man’s heels and closed the door behind him, turning to make sure that it latched. “Nope,” Corbett said, “I’m still whole. Just got promoted is all. How’s life been treating you Jimmy?”

Corbett looked around the apartment as he spoke, and he could see that nothing had changed since the day he met old Jimmy. He’d responded to a medical call in this very apartment, and when he showed up, he’d found the door forced and the old man lying unconscious in a little pool of blood. Two punks from down the hall were looking for money or meds, and they figured the old guy probably had the meds, and might even have some money somewhere. When they found out he didn’t, they beat him senseless and left him to die.

Corbett had held Jimmy’s head in his lap until the medics arrived and took him to the hospital. As the old man walked away from him he could still see the scars where the docs had stitched his head back together once all the bleeding in his brain had stopped. The hair hadn’t grown back over those patches and they stood out like mange.

Jimmy laughed again, and this time it bought on a full fit of coughing. When he finally stopped he flopped down on an old, battered recliner in the center of the dim room. He reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table by the recliner as he grinned at Corbett.

“Oh, you know. I keep on keepin’ on, Ricky.” He tapped a single cigarette from the pack and put it between his lips, then flicked a lighter and held the flame to the tip, puffing it alive with a practiced ease.

“I keep telling you to quit those things, Jimmy,” Corbett said, knowing that the old man wouldn’t take his advice anyway.

“Bah,” Jimmy croaked with a wave of his hand. “Somethin’s gonna kill me one day, Ricky. I ain’t gonna be ‘round for the cancer to do me in.”

“Kind of a fatalistic view,” Corbett muttered, almost to himself.

“Nah, just realistic,” Jimmy said with another croaking laugh.

“Well there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”

Jimmy gestured to the couch and Corbett took a seat, setting his gift on the end table before he did. He never worried about things in Jimmy’s apartment. The man had been a partier and he had a hard life, but he’d cleaned up even before the night he was beaten, and he’d done a lot to get himself cleaned up. The apartment was dingy and the walls were stained, but what the old man could clean, he kept spotless.

The couch was old and it had Corbett sinking almost all the way to the floor through the cushions. He gave a start and tried to catch himself on something, and Jimmy laughed in his croaking voice.

“Forgot about the ass-eating couch, did you?” Jimmy said with another round of cackling laughs. Swirls of smoke curled around his head as he watched Corbett settle down into the couch and finally get comfortable. “Got promoted, huh? Well you’re sure as hell not down here for the scenery, Ricky. What’s got you back in the hood?”

It took a minute, but finally Corbett found a comfortable way to sit on the couch, and the time that he spent in this apartment, helping to care for old Jimmy came back to him and made him smile. Sitting low with his legs crossed, he looked across the dim room at Jimmy’s face, lit from the side by the single floor lamp beside the recliner.

“I needed someone I could trust, Jimmy,” he said, looking at the old man’s face. “I’m in kind of a pile of shit.”

Jimmy didn’t laugh at that, just took another drag on the cigarette and stared at the inspector while the smoke curled towards the ceiling, casting strange shadows on the walls.

“Well, you got that, boy,” he finally said. “You know I always got your back.”

Corbett knew that Jimmy would be someone he could trust. After he had come back from the hospital, Corbett had made it a side mission to make sure that the man recovered, and he did everything he could when he was on his beat to get things for him and make sure that he got all his medications and took them on time. Made sure he had food, sometimes paying for it out of his own pocket. Something struck him about the old guy, though he never figured out what.

“I know, Jimmy,” he said.

“So what sort of shit you in, Ricky?” Jimmy asked.

Corbett sighed. “I don’t want you involved too much, Jimmy. It’s the sort of shit that’ll end up on the vids, and not in a good way.”

Jimmy stared across the space at Corbett with a jaded look in his eye. “Does it look like I give a damn about the vids, Ricky? I care about YOU, boy.”

Corbett looked into the old man’s eyes and he could see something akin to love burning inside. Still, he shook his head. “Well, I’m not going to tell it twice, so sit here, and you’ll hear it, but I need you to be deaf for a little bit while I use your phone.”

“My phone?” Jimmy asked.

“They’re bound to be listening to all my stuff and I don’t want my brains beaten in on the street because I stopped to use a pay phone. But no one’s going to be listening to your phone, Jimmy.”

Jimmy cackled again. “Yeah, not too many wanna listen in on my bellyachin’. All right, but you better tell me what the hell you’re into, Ricky.”

“All right, Jimmy, just sit there and listen. Just don’t hear too much, okay?”

Jimmy nodded with a smile and stubbed out the cigarette, and then he reached under the table and brought out the old corded landline phone and passed it across to Corbett. While the inspector listened to the dial tone, Jimmy tapped out another cigarette and puffed it to life between his chapped lips.

Corbett watched him with a smile and then started dialing a number. It took a moment for it to connect and start ringing, and Corbett hoped that nothing had happened that would have made the number not work.

Two rings sounded in his ear and he hung up. Then he picked up the phone again and dialed a second number, this one subtly different than the first. A couple numbers off and another pair transposed. Three rings, sounded through the receiver, and again he hung up.

Jimmy was watching him with barely contained amusement that bordered in frustration. “Well you gonna let him answer or what?”

“It’s a code, Jimmy. We worked it out years ago. It’s twenty three, two rings on one phone, three on another. Means someone from the twenty third is calling.”

“The twenty third?” Jimmy asked, obviously confused, but after a moment his eyes widened and he looked at Corbett with a little hint of respect in his eyes. “Twenty third airborne?”

Corbett nodded. “Yeah. Six years.” He held up a finger as he picked up the phone once again and dialed the second number again. Only one ring passed before a voice on the other end answered.

“Better be good or I’m hanging up,” the voice said.

Corbett laughed. Behind the gruff voice, he could hear the curiosity, and he wondered just how many people had actually used that code before now.

“Beanpole, it’s Pack Rat,” Corbett said into the phone.

“Holy shit, man. Where the fuck you been?” the man on the other end asked with surprise evident in his voice.

“Been busy, and you’ve been in the middle of nowhere. It’s damn hard to get ahold of you, you know.”

Duke Wallis, otherwise known as ‘Beanpole’ to the men he fought with, was one of Corbett’s closest friends in the service. He got the nickname because he was almost seven feet tall and about as skinny as a flagpole. He was an amazing soldier and he’d been discharged with honors after he decided it was time to retire.

He was also one of the most paranoid men that Corbett had ever known. Since his discharge, he’d been convinced of half a dozen wild conspiracy theories. Contrails, black helicopters, government spying on its citizens were some of his most favored talking points about every time Corbett managed to get hold of him. Still, with everything Corbett had seen over the last few days, he was finding it hard to argue with him at this point.

“I’m pretty damn sure you didn’t just call me up to chat, Pack Rat,” Wallis said. That was one of his rules, no names ever used over the phone, no matter what. They used old nicknames from the service, names that even their commanders didn’t know about. “What’s going on?”

“Been watching the news?” Corbett asked.

“Lotta news, Rat. Want to be more specific?”

“Kincaid. Seven bodies at a party.”

“Yeah,” Wallis said, “I saw the report. They say some girl went nuts, stabbed everyone, yeah?”

“That’s the one,” Corbett said. “It’s my case.”

“Wow. Career maker, there. You calling to brag?”

“She didn’t do it, Beanpole,” Corbett said, “and I got myself in a world of shit.”

“All right, tell me.”

Corbett started in, telling Wallis about everything that happened from the first call to the scene all the way through his meeting with Lewis. He didn’t leave anything out, just told it as it was. Wallis remained quiet through the entire telling. As he was telling the story, Corbett could see Jimmy leaning forward in his chair interest plain in the old eyes while smoke curled up around his head.

“So you’re figuring that the Lewis kid had something to do with it,” Wallis said when Corbett paused.

“I’m dead sure of it, Beanpole. Lewis is throwing around his money and his weight around like I’ve never seen before. He’s got the captain bought and paid for, for Christ’s sake.”

“So why not just roll over and do what he wants? Be a lot easier that way.”

“What would you tell me if they were doing it to my Angela? Just have me sit and do nothing while they shot her like a dog?” Corbett’s voice was angry and he snarled a little at the phone.

“It’s not Angela,” Wallis said. “What’s this Kincaid girl to you?”

“What the hell happened to you, man? You were the one that kept us on the straight and narrow out country, and now you just want me to sit by and do nothing here?” Corbett nearly yelled into the phone. “I can’t look at this girl without seeing my Angela. I have to do something.”

“You know who Lewis is, right?” Wallis asked.

“Yeah, I know, Bean. But that doesn’t mean that his son can just get away with killing seven people and pin it on some poor girl.”

“He probably thinks so,” Wallis said with an audible snort.

“Well he’s wrong,” Corbett said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Are you going to help me, or what?”

“Rat, you know I’ve got your back. Even when you’re doing something stupid like this. What do you need?”

Corbett started outlining what he wanted to do while Jimmy looked on and smiled. Finally when Corbett hung up the phone, the old man laughed.

“You’re a crazy dude, Ricky,” Jimmy said when he finished laughing. “But you’re a good one. I knew that when I first met you.”

Jimmy’s eyes burned with pride as he looked at Corbett, and the inspector couldn’t keep his gaze.

“I’m just doing what’s right,” Corbett said as he looked away.

“Ain’t many would, sittin’ where you are, Ricky.” Jimmy wasn’t laughing any more, and his face was serious as he watched Corbett. “You gonna need anything from me?”

“Yeah, and I hate to ask it, Jimmy,” Corbett started and he looked back up into the old man’s eyes and he told him the plan. He wasn’t going to finish what he needed to do in time for the trial, but as long as he did what he needed to do before they put Caitlin up against the pole, he could get her home to her family at least alive, if not completely whole.


	18. Chapter 18

The afternoon sun shone through the window in Caitlin’s cell, casting long, barred shadows along the floor. She lay on her bunk and looked up at the rough-textured ceiling, thinking back to the night at Amanda’s and trying even harder to pierce the veil of her memory. She kept being distracted as her brain picked out shapes and forms in the random dots on the ceiling, and try as she might, she couldn’t get that far back.

She’d sat with Poppy out in the yard for the rest of their time, and she’d walked behind the other girl all the way to her cell before Orfeo took her back to her own. There wasn’t any way for the two of them to talk as Poppy’s cell was all the way across the yard from hers and one floor down, but she’d taken Poppy’s hand and given it a little squeeze before she moved on. She could still feel the Poppy’s warm hand in hers when she thought about it.

Lunch came and went with her eating very little, leaving the tray in the corner for it to be picked up when the cart came round again, and still she stared at the ceiling. Nothing changed here. Every day was the same. Time in the cell when the lights came on, then breakfast, then yard time, then lunch, then lots and lots of time to merely sit and think. Unfortunately, thinking was not what Caitlin wanted to be doing now. Every time she let her mind wander, it went right back to the look on Lilly’s face when she’d almost locked eyes just before they shot her.

A sound outside the cell made her lift her head and she saw Orfeo standing at the door, reaching into her pocket for her keycard. Caitlin sat up on the bed and swung her legs around to rest on the floor while she waited for Orfeo to open the door. With a sound that Caitlin was growing used to, the door slid open and Orfeo smiled softly at her.

“Your parents are here, girl.”

Caitlin took a breath and looked down at her feet while her heart leapt into her throat. There was no one that she wanted to see more, but she didn’t want to be seeing them here. Not in a cage like she was, she should be home with them in her room, listening to her father going on about the stories on the news or about the state of the world. But this is what she had, and her desire to see them overcame her shame of the situation. She stood up and nodded at Orfeo, and then walked to the door and turned around with her hands behind her back, ready for the handcuffs.

“You going to give me trouble, girl?” Orfeo asked.

“No, Momma Bear,” Caitlin replied, still waiting.

“Then turn around, Kincaid. Your folks don’t need to see you all chained up. Come with me.”

Caitlin turned around and Orfeo took her by the arm to lead her down the hall to the stairs. There were no catcalls as she passed the cells. In every one that she passed, the girl inside had turned to look through the bars at her. Some had looks of anger and malice on their faces, but others she could see sadness, shame and in some cases, sympathy. She knew from the little news that she’d heard that her story had circulated through all the girls in the wing, probably further, and the girl in the cell next to hers had spread her version of the story too. She could tell from the looks on their faces which ones believed her version and which ones had already judged her because of the news.

Orfeo walked her down the stairs and at the bottom, a girl’s arm snaked out through the bars and reached out for Caitlin. Caitlin turned as she felt the fingers wrap around her other arm and she looked back at Daisy, the girl who’d been so crude when she’d arrived. When she looked this time, there was only sympathy on the girl’s face.

“Hey, Caitlin,” she said through a little ghost of a smile. “You gonna be fine, girl.”

Orfeo didn’t pull Caitlin along, just let her stand there with Daisy for a minute. Caitlin lifted her hand and Daisy slid her own down Caitlin’s arm to entwine their fingers together.

“Thanks Daisy,” Caitlin said, trying hard to dredge a smile from the well of emotions that she was feeling. She had to wonder if she succeeded, but whether she did or not, Daisy smiled at her and held her eyes for a moment longer before she let go of her hand.

Caitlin turned and started walking again, following Orfeo’s subtle leading tugs on her arm through the door that led to the offices. This time, she took her through a door on the wall opposite the interrogation room hallway. This one opened to another hallway, painted in the same dull blue as the rest of the prison. The corridor had doors and windows on both sides of the hallway and a large steel door set into the far end of the hall. The doors were the same as the ones that led to the interrogation rooms, and the windows were thick glass crisscrossed by sturdy wire that divided the large pane into small diamonds. Through the windows, Caitlin could see rooms with tables and stools, all of them bolted to the floor just like almost every other piece of furniture that she’d seen in the prison so far.

Orfeo took her to the farthest room and opened the door for her. Caitlin looked at the guard and Orfeo smiled.

“Wait in here and I’ll go get your folks. Just be a minute,” she said.

Caitlin nodded and stepped into the room. She heard the heavy door shut behind her and the lock slide home, and even through the thick steel, she could hear Orfeo’s steps as she walked towards the far door. She looked out through the window at the empty hallway for a moment before she felt the shaking start, and she made it to the table closest to the door before it got so bad that she couldn’t stand any more.

She took deep breaths, trying to calm the anxiety and the panic starting to rise in her chest, but the long, deep breaths quickly became faster, panting breaths as her throat choked back a sob. She was so focused on keeping back the panic that she didn’t notice that her arms had crossed her own chest and she was rubbing her hands back and forth on her upper arms while she rocked on the stool. When she noticed, she tried to calm them as well as her breath, but nothing seemed to work.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened again and when she looked up, she saw a familiar plaid shirt hanging off a very familiar pair of shoulders. When she raised her face a little more, she saw her father’s concerned face staring at her and she couldn’t stop herself from running across the room and throwing herself into her arms.

She clung tightly to her father and finally everything let go when the big strong arms wrapped around her. Dams that she didn’t know she’d been building broke inside her and she couldn’t stop the tears or the whimpering sobs that broke forth.

She was dimly aware of Orfeo behind her father holding the door open, but she didn’t care that she was holding anything up. After a minute, though, she felt her father shift his grip and lift her into his arms to step into the room.

“Take your time, Mister Kincaid,” Orfeo said. “You have about three hours before lights out, and I’ll let you stay until then.”

“Thank you, officer,” Jeremy said. Then he carried his daughter in his arms across the room back to the table and sat down on one of the stools while Orfeo closed and locked the door behind him. He let Caitlin rest against his legs while he held her to him, and Caitlin clung tightly to his warm and familiar body, eyes shut tight against the rest of the world while she cried and sobbed.

After a while of her father whispering in her ear and talking gently to her, she slowly calmed and her breathing slowed and finally she became aware of another two sets of hands on her shoulders and arms and when she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at her mother. She was smiling softly at her daughter and gently rubbing her shoulder.

Another face caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and when she turned her head, her sister Sarah was sitting on the stool next to her father. Sarah looked worried and upset, but she still kept her hands on Caitlin’s other shoulder. When the two of them saw her looking up, they both wrapped their arms around her and held both her and her father in a very close hug.

Caitlin could feel herself enveloped by their warmth and for the first time in two days she felt a measure of safety. It wasn’t much, but with the way she was feeling the last two days, just that little bit made all the difference in the world.

Too soon, though, the moment passed and they let go of her and sat back down. Jeremy kept Caitlin on his lap, but she turned so she could see the other two. All of them, her mother, her father, and her sister had worried looks on their faces, and she could picture the scene in the house the last couple days with her father going crazy with his worry, and she turned back to look up at him.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Shhh,” Jeremy whispered. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Caitlin caught back a sob and hugged her father tightly, and she managed to keep the emotions in check for the moment.

“They think I killed Amanda and everyone, Daddy. And I don’t remember anything.”

Jeremy frowned down at his daughter. He wanted nothing more than to be able to hold her to his chest and make everything be all better. He could see the terror in her eyes as she looked back at him, even though the redness and the puffy eyelids. “What happened, Caitlin?” he asked, voice soft and filled with worry.

Caitlin took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to pull away from her father. She knew that he wouldn’t like what she was going to tell him, but she started the story, anyway, even keeping in the part about drinking.

“I only had a couple of bottles of cider, daddy,” she said, trying to justify her actions, or perhaps explain them away.

“It’s all right, Caitlin. We’re not mad about the drinking,” her father said, and when she looked into his eyes again, she saw that he was telling the truth. There was no anger there, and she relaxed.

Jeremy Kincaid smiled lovingly down at his daughter, and though he tried, he couldn’t keep the worry off his face, or out of his voice. “The inspector came to talk to us yesterday,” he said.

Caitlin nodded, wondering what Inspector Corbett had visited her family for.

“He said that he thinks you didn’t do it,” Jeremy said.

“But he left so quickly and he said that all the evidence said that I did when he talked to me yesterday,” Caitlin said, confusion plain on her face.

“He said he was going to try to get you out of here, kiddo. So you just hang on, okay.”

Caitlin looked up at her father and she could feel the tears starting up again. “I’m scared, Daddy. Do you know what they’re going to do?”

Jeremy nodded and swallowed hard. He’d looked up the statues when he first heard the news and he knew what his daughter was facing. “I know, sweetie. But Corbett is going to do everything he can, so you just have to stay strong, okay. We’ll all be there at the hearing tomorrow. If the inspector doesn’t think that you did it, then it should all be over then, okay?”

Caitlin nodded, seeing a little glimmer of hope at the end of the long, dark tunnel. She couldn’t help but think back to the sight of Lilly’s lifeless body bleeding onto the grass in her blood-soaked robe, and she trembled violently in her father’s arms.

Jeremy pulled her close with his strong arms and sat rocking her on the stool while her mother and sister looked on. No one had any words to say that would make anything any better, so the family stayed that way until Orfeo returned.

“Sorry, Mister Kincaid,” she said. “Have to take you out now.”

Caitlin hugged her father hard and then stood up off his lap, taking a moment to look at Sarah and her mother before they all converged on her and held her close. Over her mother’s shoulder, she could see Orfeo watching the four of them, and the look on her face disturbed Caitlin. It was one of concern, but tinged with a bit of resignation, as if she knew what was going to happen and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. A sense of foreboding filled Caitlin and she clung tightly to her family for as long as she could before they finally let her go and followed Orfeo out the door.

She heard the door latch behind them and she sat down on the stool, too exhausted to even cry. She just looked at the blank door, waiting for it to open. Her father had told her to stay strong and that there was hope, and she had to believe him, but every time she thought about Lilly, she started thinking about what it was going to be like to be out there, at the mercy of the elements and anyone who came in the yard. She remembered the moaning cries that she’d heard through the night, and she tried hard not to think about why they were made.

Finally, the lock sounded again and the door opened. Orfeo swung it in on its hinges and beckoned for her. “Come on, Caitlin. Let’s get you back to your bunk. You’re going to see the Magistrate tomorrow, so you should get some sleep.”

Caitlin nodded and clung tightly to the hope that her father had given her. If Inspector Corbett didn’t think that she did it, then she had to trust that he’d find a way to make sure that she got out of this. It felt strange, trusting someone that she hardly knew with nothing less than her life, but it was the only chance of hope that she had, and she was willing to cling to it no matter what.


	19. Chapter 19

By the time Corbett left the tenement, the sun was going down. Preparations had been made, and plans had been set in motion, and now all he had to do was pull them all off without Lewis and his goons finding out about them.

He pulled his car over the bridge, being careful not to go back the same route he went in and he watched his rear view closely, looking for any sign that the men in the old beater had found some backups or replacements. Nothing followed him out of the slums, and he breathed a little sigh of relief as he drove over the bridge again, back to his normal part of town. As much as he had befriended some of the people when his beat was down there, there were a great many others who would have seen it as a badge of honor to have bagged a cop. Thankfully none of them seemed to be around.

As he drove through the more upscale streets, he watched the signs of the shopping centers that he went by, looking for one that had a branch of his bank. He was going to need money, and he didn’t know how far up Lewis’ influence went, and he didn’t want to get stuck without some funding. Finally, he found a place a little ways away from where he started. He pulled the car into the lot and around the building to the drive through.

After a couple of minutes of pressing buttons, he was thanking his stars that there wasn’t another car behind him waiting on him, but it was the wrong time of day for that to be the case. He had enough cash in his wallet and stashed around his car to make it through a little while if Lewis managed to freeze his accounts or make his money otherwise inaccessible. He and his wife were frugal, and there was a good deal of savings that he could draw on. It was about the only thing that made his plan completely workable.

When he finished at the teller machine, he pulled back around the building and parked the car in the lot. Watching the street lights for a moment, he tried to figure out why he was doing this for a girl he hardly knew. Duke was right. There wasn’t any connection between him and the girl. She wasn’t his daughter, and going through all this gained him nothing. But then his eyes caught his reflection in the rear view mirror and he answered the question right then and there. If this _were_ his daughter, he would expect that a good man would do what he needed to do to ensure that what Lewis wanted didn’t happen. And that’s what he was. A good man. His wife looked up to him and his daughter idolized him, and there would be no way that he could live with himself or look either of them in the face again if the Kincaid girl died.

He took a deep breath and nodded to himself in the rear view, satisfied with the answer and prepared to do what he had to do. He opened the door and moved around to the trunk, pulling out the silver bag with his tablet and his cell. He slid them both out of the bag and into his hand, and then put the tablet back in its holster before he took the phone back into the car with him. It vibrated in his hand after a moment, telling him of missed calls and messages left on his voice mail. A quick check of the screen told him that at least one of the messages would be from Jennifer.

There was one missed call from the station and one other from a number he didn’t recognize. He’d be willing to bet that it was from someone associated with the senator. There was no way that the sleaze would have been bold enough to call him directly. He didn’t want his name associated with any of this at all.

He dialed his voice mail and just as he suspected, the first message was from his wife asking where he was and why he wasn’t home for dinner. He could feel the guilt rising in him for not calling her from Jimmy’s house, but he didn’t want that number in any way associated with him. He’d make it up to her eventually, he promised himself, if it took the rest of his life, because what he was about to do would be so much worse than missing dinner.

The next message was from the dispatcher with a quick check-in call. They’d noticed that his tablet had gone out and as was protocol, they called to ensure he was all right. He checked the time code on the message and found that he only had another five minutes to call in before they started the emergency procedure for an unaccounted for officer.

He quickly skipped to the next message and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized Sylvester’s voice.

“Hey Corbett, it’s Sylvester. We need to talk. Give me a call on this number when you get my message. Dispatch is a bit freaked out and they say you went off the grid for a bit. So if you’re not dead, call me.”

Corbett looked at the display and made a note of the number. He’d call in a minute, but first he had to make sure that the whole precinct wasn’t looking for him. He dialed a number from memory and pressed the call button.

The phone rang twice before a bored sounding dispatch operator picked up on the other end. “County comms,” he said.

“This is Corbett, badge 7453. Missed a check-in. I’m alive, I was just out of range for a bit.”

“Corbett…” there was a pause on the other end and the sound of typing on a keyboard. “All right, Inspector, I got you checked in now. Corner of Duckett and Fifth.”

“That’s right. I’m signing off for the night.”

“Inspector, there’s a message for you from an inspector Sylvester for you to call when you can. I routed it to your tablet.”

“Thanks, you have a good night,” Corbett said, and then he hung up the phone.

He set his phone on the seat next to him and pressed a few buttons in the dashboard that paired his phone with the onboard electronics, then took out his tablet and fitted it in to the slot where the radio would usually be. Both pieces of electronics beeped and signaled their readiness.

Two taps on the screen had him pulling up the number that Sylvester had given him and he started the car as he tapped the ‘dial’ button on his tablet. Shifting into drive, he pulled out of the parking lot and started to make his way home. There were a lot of things that he needed to do, and if he wasn’t going to tip off anyone, there was only so much time to do them in.

Sylvester picked up on the third ring and Corbett couldn’t help but smile at the youth in the man’s voice.

“Sylvester.”

“Sylvester, it’s Corbett, got a message saying you wanted a call.”

“Corbett,” Sylvester sounded surprised and there was a pause. “Give me a second, Inspector.”

There was a beep and then a group of mechanical noises that sounded over the line before Sylvester came back on the other end.

“I don’t know what kind of shit you’ve gotten yourself into, Inspector, but we need to talk. Not on the phone. I assume that you’re in your car.”

Corbett frowned and wondered just what the hell was going on. “Yeah, I’m in the car.”

“All right,” Sylvester said, “I’m at Dell’s Diner downtown. You know how to get there?”

“What the hell-“ Corbett started.

“Not now. Two three, Inspector.”

Corbett’s eyes widened in shock at the last three words and he floundered for something to say, turning the wheel sharply to avoid crossing the middle line in the road.

“Dell’s downtown, inspector,” Sylvester said and then hung up.

Corbett tapped a button on his tablet to disconnect the call and he drove silently for a few minutes, trying to rearrange his entire view of the world. Things were not making sense. There was no way that the innocent kid that sat behind him in the squad room could have known that code. And yet he did, and he’d used it in just the right way, too.

He turned the wheel and took the next turn that would take him into the heart of the city, into the downtown core. It was time to figure out just what was going on.

\------------------------------------

Dell’s Diner was an old throwback to the past, or rather it was an imitation of a copy of a fake diner that someone had once seen in a movie with Bogart. But it was quaint and everyone in the city knew about it. The owner never had to advertise because he’d made a fortune buying an old, mostly abandoned skyscraper and leveling it to build a crappy burger joint straight out of a low-budget movie. Everyone thought he was a mad man until they came in for the burgers. Now people came from all over to eat at the place, which had gotten so exclusive that reservations had to be made weeks in advance.

The fine dining places never got as full as this place on a Friday night, and all they served were burgers, fries and milkshakes. What was even stranger was that the prices were downright reasonable, and most of the cops in the city assumed that the diner was some sort of mob front because there was no way that a restaurant like that made anywhere near the amount of money it would need to stay open. But when Corbett pulled up at full dark, the line was still out the door of people hoping that one of the reserved guests wouldn’t show.

Angry looks followed him when he walked up the ramp ahead of all the people waiting in line and then through the door. A cute little thing in a little miniskirt and halter top smiled up at him from inside the door and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m looking for a Sylvester,” Corbett said.

The girl smiled and pulled one of the single-sheet menus from the holder on the side of her little desk, then gave Corbett a quick little toss of her head that invited him to follow along. “Lenny said that he was expecting someone. He usually comes in by himself.”

Corbett watched the back of her head with a look of confusion on his face, but it was gone by the time she turned back around and smiled at him again. Sylvester apparently spent so much time here that the waitress knew him by his first name. That was something that he hadn’t known about the other officer.

Corbett looked up from the waitress and saw Sylvester sitting in the corner booth facing the door with a little smile on his face. Every day in the office, he wore a suit that looked like he’d bought it off the shelf at the local discount store, but here, he wasn’t dressed in anything that would have made him seem like a cop. He sat there in loose fitting khaki trousers and a black shirt under a Hawaiian shirt that was colored black with extremely bright green.

There was something a lot more relaxed about the officer here in the restaurant, too, and without the off-the-rack suit surrounding his body, Corbett could see the telltale signs that he’d missed that showed a definite affinity for physical fitness.

He sat when the waitress stopped in front of the table and he took the menu that she offered with a smile.

“Thanks, Billie,” Sylvester said with a smile.

“No problem, Lenny. Anything I can get either of you right now?”

Corbett looked up and saw that she was looking at him first. “Just a coffee, please.”

“Another iced tea, Billie, thanks,” Sylvester said.

The waitress smiled again and almost bounced off to the kitchen to get them their drinks. Sylvester looked across the table at Corbett and raised an eyebrow. “I take it from the shocked look on your face and the way your jaw’s going to hit the floor any minute that you didn’t have any idea that I knew Stringbean.”

Corbett shut his mouth and laughed, reaching up to run a hand along the back of his neck. “No. I didn’t even know you were a vet.”

“You really should do your homework, Corbett,” Sylvester said with a bit of a patronizing smile. “Or did you forget that old axiom, ‘Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance.’”

Corbett shook his head, “Honestly, it didn’t really occur to me to check. I don’t look up everyone that I work with for heaven’s sake.”

“Well that’s your problem. Bean was right when he said you aren’t careful enough.”

Sylvester stopped speaking for the moment when Billie came back with their drinks and gave her the most winning smile Corbett had ever seen. He tried to think back and remember if Sylvester was married or had any kind of girl, but he couldn’t remember. There wasn’t a ring on his finger, but that really didn’t mean much anymore. A lot of people just let that affectation go and didn’t worry about it.

Billie returned the smile and set a batch of cream and sugar next to Corbett’s coffee which he studiously ignored.

Sylvester noticed and laughed. “Black coffee man still, huh? I keep wondering when you’re going to burn a hole in your gut with the shit the station serves.”

“Gets the job done,” Corbett said with a grimace. “All right, you’re proving Bean right, I get it. I need to be more paranoid. Now, how the hell do you know Beanpole, and what is going on?”

“Beanpole? Is that your word? I like Stringbean, myself,” Sylvester took a sip of his tea, chuckling to himself. “Well, same diff, right? He’s my uncle. He’s the reason I got into the twenty third. Well, not the only reason, but I suspect he had some pull.”

“Wait, your uncle?” Corbett suddenly felt old. “He never even told me that he had a brother.”

“Sister, actually,” Sylvester said with a laugh at the look on Corbett’s face. “Don’t worry, you’re not that bad. Mom’s almost ten years older than uncle Duke. Made his life hell growing up. He says that’s why he recommended me to the twenty third, to get back at her by putting her boy in Special Forces.”

Corbett couldn’t help but laugh. Just that little bit of knowledge that they were part of the same unit was putting a sense of friendship between him and the younger officer. “Okay, you’ve got the cred. Now, tell me why we’re here.”

“Well, fresh out of the blue about an hour ago, I got a call from good old Uncle Stringbean, and he tells me the most interesting story. Now I’m not going to tell it again, because I suspect you know it. Anyway, he tells me that a fellow two three got himself in a heap of shit and would I go help him out of it.” Sylvester leaned back in the booth as he spoke and Corbett could see his eyes wandering around the room, watching the other diners and the waitresses. He did the same on his side out of habit, and didn’t see anyone paying undue attention to them.

“He knows you work with me?” Corbett asked.

“He does know. That made it kind of easy to say yes. You’re a two three and you’re an inspector, so we’re twice on the same side, and you know the code. I ain’t about to leave you hanging.”

“That’s nice of you, but if Bean talked to you then you know what you’re getting into.”

“And you’re all noble and everything, right Corbett?” Sylvester scoffed. “Look, I got less to lose out of this whole thing than you do. Only family I got is my mom, and she doesn’t even live in country any more. You? You got a wife and a daughter, so get off your little noble steed and we’ll get to work.”

Corbett regarded him for a moment without speaking, wondering if he could trust what he was saying, but he had all the words right, and there was a sincerity about him that he just couldn’t shake. Finally he nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but Billie came back to take their orders.

Once they’d ordered and she’d gone away, Corbett looked back at Sylvester. “All right, we’ll get things going. Did Bean tell you the plan?”

“Yep,” Sylvester said with a nod. “The question that I have for you is if Jennifer is going to go for it. You’re asking a lot of her.”

“She will eventually,” Corbett replied. “I have something that I’ll show her and it’ll get her along with it.”

Sylvester nodded and pulled a tablet out of his pocket. “You still have the bags that Bean gave you?”

“You mean for the electronics? Yeah, they’re in the trunk.”

“Good. I did a little modding on this tablet for you.” Sylvester handed the tablet across to Corbett. “When you get outside, you’ll put yours in the bag and turn this one on. They’ll think that it’s just a quick network hiccup, but there’s a program on here that will let you tell the GPS chip to send out any location you want. It’ll even let you specify the route you want to take for it to get there.”

Corbett took the offered tablet with some wide eyes. “You were tech squad, weren’t you? What did you guys call yourselves? Geeks with an attitude problem?”

Sylvester laughed and nodded. “That was us. Crazy attitude problems all around.”

“All right, what about the phone?” Corbett asked.

“Thing that a lot of people don’t know is that dispatch doesn’t keep track of the phones. There’s something in the law that makes it really hard to get a legal order to watch the phones, even for officers, but that little law doesn’t apply to the tablets. So once you’ve got the tablet all set, you’re golden.”

Corbett frowned, “How do you know that?”

“I used to work in the information department for the station before I got promoted to Inspector,” Sylvester replied. “There’s more than just the Patrol way to get into the investigations department. They needed computer geeks for the high tech crimes unit, and they rotated me to investigations on my way up there.”

Corbett nodded and frowned again, “You know that you’re not going to be able to come back to that if the senator finds out that you helped.”

“Yeah, I know, but Uncle Duke has a place for me if that happens. I’m not really worried about it. I can be on one side of the law or the other. I’ve got skills both sides want, and after hearing what kind of shit you got yourself involved with, I’m kind of thinking that the other side might need someone with a little grudge and a bit of inside knowledge if you know what I mean.”

“You’re talking about going all the way,” Corbett said. “Look, all I want is to get this Kincaid girl out of the way and keep my family alive.”

“Corbett, when are you going to wake up? If they can do this to one girl, what’s to say they couldn’t do it to your daughter, your wife? The system’s broken, man.”

“Lewis said the same thing,” Corbett said with a dark look.

“But he’s working it, Inspector. I’m talking about tearing it down.”

Corbett watched the officer across the table with a wary eye and he couldn’t help but look around to see who was paying attention, maybe see if someone was listening in. There weren’t any cars outside that looked like they didn’t belong, no people paying undue attention to the two cops sitting in their booth, even the waitress hadn’t come back with their food yet.

“All right, look,” Corbett said, “I don’t know how far this is going to go, but I’m in as far as getting my family away.”

Sylvester nodded and leaned over the table. “All right, we’ll take it one step at a time. First, though, you get to convince your wife.”

“Yeah,” Corbett said. “That’s the part I’m not looking forward to.”

Billie returned with their food just as the last words were out of Corbett’s mouth, and he sat back, moving his coffee saucer to make room for the plate that was put in front of him. He wasn’t concerned about the food at the moment, though, more with the man across the table from him.

Dinner went quickly and quietly and before long, there was nothing left to discuss and only so much small talk they could make before Corbett had to face up to his next task.

“I’ll call you when I’m ready,” he said to Sylvester.

Sylvester nodded and sat back in the booth, looking as unconcerned as Corbett imagined he would if they’d just been having a discussion on the technical merits of the new computer system at the office. Sighing inwardly to himself and wondering again what he’d gotten himself in the middle of, he took the tablet that Sylvester had given him and walked out the door.

When he got to his car, he hit the trunk release and pulled out the bad he’d just used. He took a breath and gave himself the one final chance to back out of this, then took out his tablet, turned it off, and then he slid it into the bag. Once it was safely stowed out of sight in the trunk, he pulled out Sylvester’s tablet and started it up.

It didn’t take much time for it to boot up and log into the police system, and there in the upper right corner, Corbett saw something that he’d never seen before. A little icon in the shape of an antenna. When he touched it, an interface appeared on the screen and he took a minute to familiarize himself with it, quickly learning where the functions he would need were located.

Once he got it all in his head, he brought up the police interface and signed himself out for the day. Then he put the tablet to sleep and slid it into the familiar holder. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. It was time to go and talk with his wife.


	20. Chapter 20

Caitlin laid on the bunk and found herself once again staring at the concrete ceiling of the cell. There wasn’t much else to look at and she didn’t want to take herself to the window and see that pole in that courtyard any more. Every time she looked out her window, she kept thinking that her trial was in the morning.

She watched as the setting sun traced patterns through the bars on the window onto the floor, and then the wall, and finally it disappeared, leaving only the incandescent bulbs in the prison’s light fixtures to illuminate the cell.

She heard the sound of booted footsteps coming up the stairway and she recognized Orfeo’s cadence, so strong and regular. She sat up and scooted herself up in the bunk until she could lean back against the wall and watch the bars of her cell.

The footsteps got closer and soon she could make out the quiet words that the guard always seemed to have on hand for her charges. Little reassurances here, some quiet banter there. When she got to the cell next to Caitlin’s, she heard the guard pause for a moment with a quiet chuckle. The sounds of snoring from the next cell had become a comforting constant in the early evening, and Orfeo apparently found it amusing.

The pause was only for a moment and then a few more steps brought her into view at the bars. Caitlin could almost feel a smile creeping up her face, but it just didn’t want to come out. She had to admit that she liked and looked up to the woman on the other side of the bars. The look on her face, though had her curious. It wasn’t a frown, but it spoke of something that was troubling her.

“Caitlin,” Orfeo said, “I’ve brought you some things.”

Caitlin looked at her curiously. It was rare that Orfeo referred to her as anything other than ‘Kincaid’ or ‘girl,’ and the fact that she was using her first name had her a bit worried and she looked down at the guard’s hand, holding a bundle.

Orfeo slid the bundle through the bars and rested it there, watching Caitlin on the bunk. Caitlin stood and crossed the cell in a matter of a couple steps and took the package from her. Wrapped in a rough twine, she found a pad of paper and a stack of envelopes. Clipped onto one of the pages of paper, she found a standard black pen.

“I always give a girl paper and a pen before she has to go for her tribunal if there’s a chance that she’s not going to come back to the cell.”

Orfeo’s voice was quiet and controlled, but Caitlin could hear a little bit of apprehension behind it, and she knew what Orfeo meant when she thought she might not be coming back. She turned and she looked towards the window then back at Orfeo.

“You mean I might be going out there, don’t you, Momma Bear?” Caitlin asked quietly.

“Yeah, I do, Caitlin.”

Orfeo reached in through the bars and caught hold of Caitlin’s hand when she saw the tears starting in her eyes again.

“Listen, Kincaid,” she said, voice stern and growing a little in volume, “you’ve got to keep hope, okay. But I don’t want you to not have a chance to say what you need to say. You write what you need to and I’ll make sure that it gets where it needs to go. If you come back here, then I’ll make sure no one has to see those letters.”

Caitlin’s hands shook as she looked down at the package, and then she nodded, not looking back up at Orfeo. Not sure what else to do, she reached over with her other hand and laid it over Orfeo’s, then finally looked up at the guard.

“Take the time you need, Caitlin, and I’ll make sure that I get them before you go in the morning,” Orfeo said.

She patted Caitlin’s arm and then pulled her hand back through the bars. She stood on the other side for a moment longer and then smiled and walked back the way she came. There was no banter on the way back down the hall, just a hushed quiet, as if the other girls knew why Orfeo had come up. Perhaps they did. Maybe they’d seen her with the bundle before.

Caitlin found her thoughts drifting back to Lilly. Orfeo probably brought her a package just like she did Caitlin. Somehow the thought was both disturbing and frightening at the same time. Then she thought of Poppy and she crossed to the window. She found Poppy’s window across the courtyard easily and she watched the other girl sitting on her bunk writing. The other girl’s eyes lifted from her work and looked out the window at the courtyard.

Caitlin put her hand on the glass and the movement caught Poppy’s eyes and drew them to meet Caitlin’s. Caitlin held up the bundle from Orfeo and Poppy did the same. Caitlin could feel a sense of kinship with the other girl, even though they were worlds apart and separated by that horrible, stained grass. It was something they had in common, that bundle of paper.

She lowered her package and turned back to the bunk, then sat down. She laid the small stack of envelopes on the bunk beside her and put the pad of paper on her lap with the pen in her hand. She tried to think of who she wanted to write to, and she tried to think of what she wanted to say.

Orfeo said that she might not be coming back to her cell and if that was the case, she would never be seeing any of her family again, and the crushing weight of her situation finally came the rest of the way down upon her as she sat and looked at that blank piece of paper staring her in the face. She never imagined that she’d ever be in the position of writing a letter to someone she would never see again.

She set the pad aside and laid her head in her hands and let the sobs rock her body and the tears fall down her face. There was no way to stop the shaking that started on top of the sobs, no way to block the thought that she would never again see her family and that all she had to look forward to was the pole in the yard, chained like an animal in a cage.

It wasn’t the hysterical crying and screaming that had assailed her the first day, but somehow she felt it even more acutely. She could see herself in her mind’s eye, just three days ago, happily sitting on the couch watching television, hoping that her sister would be coming home for a visit so that she could cry on her shoulder about Hunter. There was nothing in the world that she wanted more than to be back in that living room, just a normal person again instead of here with the empty paper.

After a time, she started to realize how much time was passing and that the lights in the cells would be going out before too long. She reached over and brought the pad back to her lap and put the tip of her pen to the front page. In a slow, deliberate writing, she began what she was sure would be the last letter that she would ever write.

Tears stained the page and made the ink run under them, but she didn’t smear them away. She just left them there to dry for fear that her words would be forever washed away by the drops if she wiped them away. There was no way that she could bear that her last words on the earth could be taken away so easily.

It took her a couple of restarts on new pieces of paper to get what she wanted down on the page, and by the time she was almost finished with the letter, the lights had gone out. She finished her last few words by the orange lights in the courtyard filtering through her window and she signed her name. Finally, she set the pad aside and she curled up on her bunk, letting the tears flow as they might while she sobbed and rocked herself to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

The house was quiet when Corbett opened the door and walked in. He was used to coming home late and having his wife already in bed asleep when he got home. He specifically called and asked for her to wait up for him this evening, though, so the eerie quiet of the house made his heart jump into his throat when he opened the door.

The lights were off in the house except for the one light that she always left on for him, to light his way to the rest of the house. He followed his usual path, passing the table in the hallway where he usually laid his service weapon and he didn’t stop like he usually did, wanting to keep the weapon with him while he looked through the house for his wife.

He could see a light on at the top of the stairs in the room that they shared, and he started up that way. He didn’t draw his weapon just yet, just kept his hand on the butt, ready to draw it and use it if needed, but if it was just his wife in the room, the last thing she needed was for him to burst in with his gun drawn and looking for something to shoot. She’d be well within her rights to make him sleep out in the yard if he did that.

Slowly, he crept closer to the open door and as he did, he looked inside. There was no movement, and he couldn’t see the bed, but he could hear someone moving around behind the partially closed door. He carefully reached out and opened the door to step inside.

His wife sat on the bed with her back to him combing her long blonde hair, not having heard him come in, and he took a moment to look around the rest of the room before he breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one else there. He relaxed and scolded himself for his paranoia, but then he remembered the view from Lewis’ camera into their bedroom. There was a feeling of being watched, and it was justified now, since he knew without a doubt that they were being watched.

“You’re beautiful as always, Jennifer,” he said as he walked into the room. He leaned as nonchalantly as possible in the doorway while he watched her react to his presence. She wasn’t wearing any clothing, ready to climb into bed and it burned Corbett to know that Lewis or one of his goons had been watching her through the camera that they had hidden in the house.

His wife turned and looked at him with a smile that reached all the way up to her green eyes. The little wrinkles at the sides of them made him feel all the more angry. It was a smile that she reserved only for him, and now someone else was seeing it and probably getting off to it. But he couldn’t let himself think that way right now. There was too much at stake and too much that still had to happen before he completely tipped his hand.

A quick check of the watch told him that as long as Sylvester had gotten home and to his computer on time, the camera would now be playing a computer-generated image of his wife getting ready for bed, and he would have a little bit of a window to do what needed to be done.

Jennifer saw the look in her husband’s eyes and she frowned. “Bad day at work?” she asked, reaching out to invite her husband into a hug.

Corbett stood up and walked to the bed but not into her arms. That only made her frown much worse and she looked up at him curiously.

“What is it, Richard?”

Corbett sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the tablet out from its holster.

“It’s the case I’m working on Jennifer,” Corbett said as he turned the tablet on. “It’s gotten a little out of hand.”

Jennifer looked at him with curiosity and a little sympathy in her eyes. “Well what’s going on?”

He didn’t have to explain the case to her, she’d seen the news and she was excited for him that he pulled the inspector spot for the case. It was a real career maker, getting the conviction of someone accused of seven murders. She’d been there while he investigated and she’d watched as he went through all of the evidence over the last two nights. Now he had to figure out how to tell her what he’d done.

“Jennifer, Kincaid is innocent,” he said as he let his head hang to his chest. “But things have gone wrong.”

“Well if she’s innocent, then they’ll let her go, right?” Jennifer asked.

Corbett shook his head. “No, they won’t. Because I signed off on the evidence that tells the magistrate she’s guilty.”

Jennifer frowned even deeper, “You have evidence, and you still think she didn’t do it?”

Corbett nodded, not wanting to continue, but knowing that he had to finish. “I know she’s not guilty, Jennifer, because I know who is.”

He started to tell her about what happened at the station and the abandoned house. He told her about the video cameras and the threats that Lewis had made against her. Finally, he told her about the threats Lewis had made against Angela, and he looked up at her face while he did, not sure if he could bear the look, but when he did, he was met with a very hard stare.

“You need to stand by that report, Richard,” she said firmly. “Angela is just a girl. You can’t let Lewis go after her.”

Corbett could see the fear sparkling behind her eyes and he ached for her, knowing that fear intimately. “That’s why I made the report, Jen,” he pleaded. “But I can’t go on lying about Kincaid.”

He pulled up the video from his interrogation and the other video that he’d acquired from the prison system showing the girl crying herself to sleep on the bunk in her cell. Another clip showed Caitlin in the midst of her panic attack, and the final clip showed Caitlin watching the execution of the condemned girl.

By the end of the videos, his wife could hardly look at anything and he watched her try to find something solid under her feelings. He reached out with his hands and he pulled her close.

“You see? I can’t let them do that to her. Not without some sort of a fight.”

Jennifer turned her head to look at him and he could see the conflict and the pain in her eyes as she weighed the feelings that came from the video with the feelings and knowledge that what he was doing would put the whole family at risk. It wasn’t an easy choice and he knew it. He’d been through the same set of emotions and he’d come out the other side with a decision.

“What would you say if that was Angela?” he asked quietly. “What would you do to the man who knew the truth and lied and covered it up to save himself?”

Corbett looked into his wife’s eyes as he spoke.

“Because I know what I’d do. I’d tear the man limb from limb and toss his head from the balcony.”

He felt his wife shaking in his arms and he hugged her closer to him, holding her around the waist while he wrapped his other hand around her head to pull her against her chest. Partly it was to provide comfort to his wife, and partly it was because he couldn’t bear to look at the pain in her eyes any longer.

“How could I live with myself if I let this happen, Jen?”

Jennifer didn’t answer right away, just stayed in her husband’s arms and shook. Corbett could feel the little drops of moisture sinking into his shirt and he held her close. He knew it was a lot to take in and he felt that he’d just dropped the whole world on his wife’s head, but there wasn’t any more gentle way to do it. He only had a little bit of time before Sylvester would have to turn the cameras back on, and by then he had to make sure that she was going to come with him and out of harm’s way.

“So how do we stop it?” she asked.

Corbett looked down at her with a little look of surprise, wondering at the inner strength of his amazing wife. He knew how much it took for her to ask how they could stop it instead of how he could stop it. It was her own little way of telling him that she agreed with him and she was willing to go along.

“You remember Sylvester, right? The new inspector from the station?”

Jennifer nodded, “He was the one that we invited to the holiday partly last year, right?”

“That’s right,” Corbett was always amazed by his wife’s memory. He could barely remember what he had for lunch some days, but his wife was a steel trap for those kinds of things, and it seemed that there was nothing she didn’t remember.

“He was a cute guy,” she said with a smile. “A little young, maybe, but he was cute.”

Corbett had to laugh that she was thinking of things like that in the situation they were in.

“He’s one of the computer geeks from the basement. They made him an inspector so they’d have someone for high-tech. He’s Duke’s nephew.”

Corbett had told Jennifer about his time in the twenty third and all of the things that they used to do, all the good old boys from the unit and Duke always ended up in at least two or three stories every time he went back to tell them.

“Nephew? But how did he get involved in this?”

Corbett told her about talking to Duke and then running into Sylvester. He started to realize just the network of friends he had around him and it made his heart glow a little to think that these people were putting their lives and their livelihoods on the line for him and this young girl that none of them knew.

“So right now, he’s got the cameras off,” Corbett explained, “but we don’t have a whole lot of time.”

Corbett took a breath and looked in the closet, seeing exactly what he hoped to – the family luggage sitting high on the shelf where it should be.

“I’m going to need you to pack what you’ll need for a week while I’m at the office tomorrow, okay? Try to do everything in the closet, because the camera can’t see in there. I’ll need Sylvester with me tomorrow and he won’t be able to get the camera off again while he’s doing what I need him to do.”

Jennifer nodded and looked up in the closet herself. Corbett smiled at the way that the two of them always thought alike. It was one of the reasons that he married her. She thought like him with more attention to certain details and together, they made one hell of a team.

“Duke has some buddies who are going to come and pick you and Angela up when everything’s ready. Duke says they’re not much to look at, but they’re good in a fight and they’re full of the old southern boy politeness quotient.”

Duke actually said that they’d treat his wife like a rare diamond and get her where she needed to go even if they had to lay down and let the truck drive over them to get her there. He really hoped that with the right preparation, there wouldn’t be a need for that.

Jennifer nodded again and laughed at Corbett’s representation of their attitude. “All right, Richard,” she said, “where are we going?”

“Duke said we can come and stay with him a while. Apparently he has a whole guest house on that farm he bought a couple years ago and he says we’re welcome to it while we figure things out or while everything blows over.”

He could see the look of understanding in his wife’s eye when he said that, and he didn’t have to tell her what this would all mean for his career. Once he got in front of the magistrate and recanted his report, admitting that he lied, there would be nothing that would ever get him into a uniform again. That thought, though, wasn’t in the forefront of his mind. He was more concerned with protecting his family than retaining his job.

Corbett checked his watch and took the time for a quick kiss to his wife’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry about this, Jen,” he said just barely above a whisper.

She leaned in and put her arms around him and her voice matched his in volume. “Stupid man. Just go do what you need to do.”

Corbett imagined that he could hear a little beep as the prearranged time came and went and the cameras went back to their live feed. He would have to ask Sylvester just how he managed to get the pictures to line up just right. But that was for tomorrow. For tonight, all he had left to do was undress and climb into bed beside his wife until they both fell asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

As much as she hated to admit it, Caitlin was starting to get used to the routine of the prison. The lights came on in the morning at the same time, and this morning, she was awake and sitting on the edge of her bunk when they did. As soon as they came on, she stood and moved about the cell to use the facilities and get herself into a clean jumpsuit.

As usual, there wasn’t anything to do past that. She looked back at the bed and she saw the little pile of papers under it that were the letter that she wrote the previous night. She didn’t want to go back and relive the night, so she just left them there and crossed back to the window, looking out over the now-familiar landscape of the exercise yard and courtyard. Everything was the same as it was the last time she looked out. The white pole was still there, the chain was still hanging from it, and the dark spot on the grass still sat there as a morbid reminder of the purpose of that yard.

She was getting used to the routine, yes, but there was no way that she could get used to the thick bars on the window or the thick glass that took all her strength to open and close. Neither could she get used to the bars on the other side of the cell, where every day she could see hear some of the other girls making their ways around the walkway, from one errand to another.

Little by little, the familiar anxiety crept into her body as she looked out over the yard. She remembered Orfeo telling her that today would be the day of her hearing, and the more she thought about it, the more she had to force herself to remain calm. She took the deep breaths that her father had taught her, and counted way past the ten-count that he’d had her practice every time she was mad or anxious or upset. None of it helped.

She jumped and turned around fast with her back to the wall when she heard the soft voice behind her.

“Breakfast, Caitlin.”

The usual trustee that brought her meals every morning wasn’t there. Orfeo stood there instead, looking at her with her kind but stern face. Orfeo keyed open the cell door and stepped inside carrying a tray full of food. Caitlin could see sausage, eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes and a pile of fruit on the tray.

“I didn’t know what you liked, Kincaid, so I brought a little of everything. I try to bring a big breakfast to my girls when they’re going to their hearings. Give them some energy for the day.”

Caitlin looked at the tray and then back to Orfeo and she slowly shook her head.

“Not hungry, Momma Bear,” she said.

“Nonsense, girl,” Orfeo said. She reached behind her and closed the door, then crossed the small cell space to sit on the bunk. “You might not be in the mood, but trust me. You’ll feel a lot better if you eat something.”

Caitlin shook her head again, but she crossed to the bunk to sit beside Orfeo, anyway. “I don’t think I could eat anything, Momma Bear.”

It took a lot for Caitlin to say what came out next, “I’m scared.”

Orfeo frowned and nodded seriously with a sympathetic expression on her face.

“I can see why,” she said in a kind and quiet voice. “Listen, Caitlin, I know you’re scared, but you want to make the best impression you can on the Magistrate. I’ve seen girls that don’t eat and then they get up to the courtroom and they just pass out because they’re too hungry.”

Orfeo lifted a slice of bacon and handed it to Caitlin. “You want to make sure that you understand everything that the Magistrate says, okay, so you need to keep up your strength. Give it a shot.”

Caitlin took the bacon from Orfeo and gingerly took a bite, chewing slowly. The salty, greasy flavor rolling across her tongue made the rest of her stomach wake up and she realized just how long it had been since she’d had something really substantial to eat. She’d been skipping some of her meals and merely picking at the ones that she HAD eaten. That was probably why she felt the way that she did, all run down and weak.

She took a deep breath and put the rest of the slice in her mouth, and then reached over to take the tray from Orfeo, sliding it to her own lap.

“I’ll eat what I can, Momma Bear,” she said with a small, grateful smile.

She started taking small bites of the food on the tray and before long, her hunger overcame her anxiety and she finished the majority of the food. Orfeo merely watched her with a little smile on her face.

Finally when Caitlin was finished, Orfeo took the tray back and set it on the floor by the bars. She waited for a few minutes until Caitlin looked back up at her before she spoke.

“You better, girl?”

Caitlin nodded and couldn’t help the little smile that crossed her face. “Thank you, Momma Bear.”

Orfeo nodded and her face grew a bit more serious.

“All right, Kincaid,” she said, trying not to be too somber, “this is what’s going to happen today.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened a little and she could feel her breathing start to speed up. She was expecting that Orfeo would be coming by to at least tell her what was going on, but having her here and actually going on with it sort of brought everything back to reality.

“Your hearing is for later this morning, so you have a couple hours. I asked your parents to bring something nice for you to wear, since you can wear regular clothes for the hearing. You don’t want to look like a jailbird, even if you are.” Orfeo chuckled quietly at the last sentence

Caitlin could only nod, wondering what kind of feelings her family had about the whole thing. She could picture her mother standing in the closet trying to figure out what she was going to bring for her to wear. Wondering if it would be the last thing they saw her in.

Caitlin shook her head firmly and thrust the image out of her mind. She couldn’t afford to think about that, she had to keep her focus on what was coming. She had to keep her composure so she didn’t break down in front of Orfeo or the magistrate. Or, heaven forbid, in front of Sinclair.

“So we’ll get you dressed after your morning yard time and I’ll escort you to the hearing room. It’s not far from here, so I’ll walk with you. Your parents will be allowed in the visitor’s gallery, so you’ll be able to see them during the hearing.”

Orfeo watched Caitlin carefully, secretly proud of the way that the girl was coping with all the information and all the things she was facing. After her first night on the wing, Orfeo was afraid that Caitlin would be one of the hysterical ones, the ones that they had to drug and wheel into the courtroom in a wheelchair. One of the ones that never did understand what was happening to them. She couldn’t decide if the fact that Caitlin was strong was a blessing or a curse.

“You’ll get your chance to tell your story to the magistrate, and he’ll ask you any questions he has. He already has the investigator’s report, so Inspector Corbett won’t be there. Once he’s talked to you and he has all the information he needs, he’ll deliberate and then make his judgment. What happens after that will depend on his judgment. Either way, I will be there, okay?”

Caitlin’s eyes quivered with fearful tears and she couldn’t help the slight shaking that rocked her body as she nodded. She knew what came with either judgment. Either she would be going home with her parents, or she wouldn’t ever see them again, and she’d be the one at the pole.

Orfeo nodded and stood up from the bunk. “All right, then. I’ll come and get you for yard time and then we’ll go from there.”

The guard turned and picked up the tray from the floor, and then keyed open the door and walked out, closing the bars firmly behind her with soft click that sounded almost out of place from the massive door. Caitlin could hear her familiar steps down the hall. This morning, the friendly voices were back, though they continued only in hushed tones.

Caitlin reached under the bed and pulled the little bundle of paper and envelopes up on to the bed. Without looking at the letter again, she folded the papers into neat little thirds and slid them into an envelope. On the front of the envelope, she wrote “Mom, Dad, and Sarah,” then sealed the envelope and put the whole bundle on the floor by the bars, planning to give it to Orfeo when she came next. There was no one else to write, and she didn’t think she had the motivation or will to write to anyone else, anyway.

The thing that bothered her more than the anxiety of the day was the boredom of being stuck in the little cell with just the small window on the far side to see out into some sort of other world. That world wasn’t something that she wanted to look at, yet she found herself drawn back to the window time and time again, even though she’d move to the bunk or walk to the bars for something different to lean against, she always found herself standing in front of the window, looking out over that cursed courtyard.

Little movement from across the yard caught her attention and she saw Poppy looking out her window as well. The girl turned away from the window as if something had caught her attention and Caitlin saw her hang her head and walk away from the window until she could no longer see the other girl’s feet.

The sound of the door keying open made her turn around and as she was expecting, Orfeo was there.

“Yard time, girl,” she said and stepped back from the door.

Caitlin walked out of the cell and down the stairs to the door, and then stepped through to the yard. She took the same path around the central courtyard to the bench where she and Poppy met the last time, and then sat there, waiting for the other girl.

As she waited, she watched the rest of the girls filing out through the door and, as usual, none of them paid her the slightest bit of attention. Soon, the line ended and Orfeo closed the door, but there was no sign of Poppy. Then she remembered the girl telling her that her hearing was the same day and the realization hit her hard. Poppy must have been taken to her hearing.

Caitlin hung her head and leaned her back up against the wall trying to still the hard beating of her heart while she tried not to contemplate what was going to happen to her friend. Poppy had already admitted her guilt, so her conviction was a foregone conclusion, and Caitlin idly wondered whether she would be coming back to this yard that her friend Lilly so recently occupied.

Caitlin was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the girl walking across the paved space to her bench.   She didn’t look up until she felt the bench sagging under the weight of another girl, and when she finally looked at who was next to her, she found Daisy looking at her. Daisy’s eyes were concerned and she had a serious look on her face.

“Hey, Kincaid,” she said quietly. “I’ve heard you talking with Momma Bear. Sorry I was a bitch when you came in.”

Caitlin had to think back for a moment. The two days that she had been incarcerated had started to seem like an eternity, and it took her a moment to remember the exchange on her first night.

“It’s okay, Daisy,” she said. “Honestly, I didn’t even remember until you told me.”

“We’re praying for you, girl,” Daisy said as she reached out a hand and laid it on Caitlin’s shoulder.

Caitlin nodded. She could feel the telltale lump rising in her throat, but nothing came. It surprised Caitlin to realize that there was nothing left to cry. She’d shed so many tears that no more would come.

“That means a lot, Daisy, thanks”

Daisy gave Caitlin’s shoulder a couple pats and then sat with her for the rest of the yard hour, content to merely sit with her without saying anything. Of anything that someone could have done for her, Caitlin realized, this gesture went the farthest towards what she needed.


	23. Chapter 23

Orfeo opened the door and gave a whistle, signaling that the yard time was over and it was time to go back to their cells. Caitlin stood up and filed to the door behind Daisy, and even found a moment to give her a quick hug before the other girl stepped into her cell at the base of the stairs.

When she got back to her cell, Caitlin found a simple but pretty floral dress hanging off the inside bars, and it brought a smile to her eyes. She recognized it as one of her favorite dresses, though one she hardly ever wore because it always seemed so formal and stiff, and not something that she’d usually wear to school or just for hanging out with Amanda.

Orfeo came by soon after she’d stepped inside and she smiled at the dress hanging there.

“Your mother has good taste, girl,” she commented, reaching out to touch the sleeve. “Go ahead and change and I’ll take you over. You’ve got about an hour. They’re finishing up with Poppy’s case right now.”

“Do you know what happened?” Caitlin asked, “With…with Poppy?”

Orfeo nodded solemnly. Caitlin didn’t need to hear the words. She could already see the answer in Orfeo’s eyes.

“The magistrate condemned her,” Orfeo answered anyway. “There wasn’t much else that could have happened.”

“So they’re going to put her where Lilly was?” Caitlin asked.

“No,” Orfeo said with a shake of her head, “They’re taking her to block 4.”

There was a pained look in Orfeo’s eyes as she said that, and Caitlin quickly read further into it and realized that it meant Momma Bear wouldn’t have access to Poppy like she did Lilly.

“I’m sorry Momma Bear,” Caitlin said.

“Don’t be sorry, girl,” Orfeo said sharply. “Just get dressed and get ready.”

Then Orfeo turned and walked away, closing the cell door behind her. Caitlin looked at her retreating back and couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d said something wrong. But it hardly mattered anyway, not with her hearing so close.

Carefully and quietly, Caitlin changed out of her jumpsuit and into the dress. It still fit well, though it hung a little more loosely off her body than she remembered it, and she wondered how much weight she’d lost just by skipping the meals over the last few days.

She didn’t want to sit on the bunk and get the dress wrinkled, so she took to pacing around her cell, from the window to the bars and back again. She didn’t want to look out the window, and every time she came close, she made sure to turn her head away so that she didn’t have to look at the spot on the grass, didn’t have to think about Lilly out there or Poppy who was going to be in a different yard.

“Wearing a groove again, Kincaid?” said the familiar voice of her next-door cell mate.

Caitlin stopped and flushed a little, even though there was no one to see.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well if it makes you feel better, don’t stop on my account.”

A little laugh sounded through the window.

“Listen, Kincaid,” the girl said, “You go and you tell them what you know, and you stand there with your head up, okay?”

“What does it matter if my head is up?” Caitlin asked.

“Because that’s the only thing that matters in the end,” the other girl said. “You gotta show them that they can’t break you.”

Caitlin stopped and thought about that for a minute before she answered.

“What if they can break me?”

The girl didn’t answer and Caitlin sat down on her bunk, a little self-conscious now about her pacing. Sitting there, she played with the hem on her dress as she waited for Orfeo to return. Finally, she could hear the guard’s footsteps coming up the stairs and she stood up by the door to wait.

When Orfeo came into view, Caitlin saw a look of concern on her face, but it was quickly hidden by a look of surprise on her face when she saw Caitlin standing there.

“Ready, girl?” she asked.

Caitlin nodded.

“I’m not going to put cuffs on you for the walk, Caitlin. Don’t you go giving me any reason to regret it, okay?”

“I won’t, Momma Bear,” Caitlin said quietly.

Orfeo nodded and keyed open the door and Caitlin waited while it swung out. When it stopped moving, she stepped out and Orfeo took hold of her arm.

Together, they walked down the walkway to the stairs, and then around first floor main corridor to the side of the block that Caitlin hadn’t seen. Orfeo keyed them through a door that looked exactly the same as all the other doors to the block, big and solid and steel with a little window that was broken up into little diamonds by the security wire embedded in the glass.

When they walked through the door, Caitlin couldn’t help but think that they were in a completely different world and she had to look back to see the cell block to believe that they were in the same building at all. Through the door was a long hallway with plain grey carpet and wood paneled walls. When she turned back around to look behind her, she saw that the big metal door had been decorated in such a way as to make it look like a perfectly normal office door from this side. The lighting in the hallway was much softer than the industrial fluorescents that lit the cells and it even smelled like a different place.

Orfeo looked as if she expected the reaction and she stopped and waited while Caitlin looked around, but it wasn’t long before she began guiding her down the hallway again. On either side of the hall, Caitlin could see wooden doors, each with only a number on a little plaque in the center of the door at eye level.

There was no door at the end of the hall, and it opened into a grand gallery over four stories tall with a domed ceiling. The ceiling had a mural painted on it, but Caitlin couldn’t stand still long enough to really get a good sense of what it was because Orfeo continued walking.

“Come on, Kincaid,” she said, “you keep rubbernecking and you’re going to be late for your hearing. That won’t go over well with the Magistrate.”

Caitlin shivered and faced her head forward and walked along with the guard without any more attempts to look around.

Through the gallery to the far end, she followed Orfeo until they stopped in front of a large set of double doors. They were tall and looked incredibly sturdy, but they also looked old and used, though they were immaculately clean. Above the doors was a large plaque with the letter “I” inscribed in large font. There were two other doors, the one to the left had a plaque with “II” and the one to the right read “III.”

It only took her a minute to figure out what it all meant, and she shuddered once again, realizing that her fate lay behind the doors in front of her. She felt Orfeo’s hand move to her shoulder and she looked around at the guard.

“Take a breath, Caitlin,” Orfeo instructed.

Caitlin complied and drew a deep breath, holding it inside for a minute before she let it out again.

“All right, listen carefully,” Orfeo said. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to escort you inside, then I have to leave you in the Accused’s seat.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened and she could feel her breathing getting a little faster and a little more out of her control.

“Don’t worry, girl,” Orfeo said in a reassuring tone, “I’ll be there the whole time, I just can’t be right there with you. I’ll be off to the side, and your family will be up in the gallery. Now, you’re not allowed to interact with anyone but the magistrate or whoever he directs you to speak with. Understand?”

Caitlin nodded again, and then turned her eyes back to the imposing doors in front of her. She understood Orfeo’s words, but they didn’t really make all that much sense until the doors opened and she looked into the room.

The court room was a large circular room. All of it was wood paneled and all the furniture was heavy oak. The carpet was a deep crimson and it looked as if it had been there for a long time with heavily trampled pile in the center of the aisles.   The big room was divided into four sections. The one that struck Caitlin first was the raised dais on the far side of the room where she assumed the magistrate sat. It was tall and imposing and it had a large, heavy seal of the country affixed to the front of it.

In front of the dais was a smaller circular area bordered by a waist-high railing. Caitlin could see two swinging entrances through the railing, one on either side behind a solitary chair that sat in the middle of the circle. The only other furniture in the circle was a small table to the side of the chair. A closer look at the chair in the center showed her rings that she assumed would allow someone to be handcuffed to it. Caitlin didn’t need a road map to figure out where she was going to be through the whole thing.

Outside the central circle was another circle that took up the rest of the floor space. Through that section, chairs were set in precise rows. On the very far sides of the rows, the seats were bolted to the ground, and between those two sections, the chairs could be moved.

A balcony hung above the very back of the visitors section, and Caitlin could just discern the tops of some comfortable looking chairs spaced evenly around. She guessed that the more important visitors or people who had interest in her case would be sitting up there.

As she looked around, she saw that in the very front of visitor’s section, the chairs had been removed and there was a great deal of video equipment. A bunch of cameras and wires trailed all over the section and Caitlin could make out the logos of at least three different television stations. Movement brought her eyes back to the center of the room and she could see the techs making sure that all the wiring was correct running to the dais and the chair in the center of the room. One man was setting up a microphone on the table and pointing it to the chair. Another was setting up wires beneath the first row of fixed visitor’s seats.

Orfeo ushered her through the doors and all of the men looked up when they walked in, eyes focused on Caitlin and her escort. Some had expressions of anger and hatred, some were sympathetic, and still others just looked bored.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Orfeo said firmly to the lot of them as she walked Caitlin up to the first door to the center.

The workmen went quickly back to work with only a glance at the stern officer.

Orfeo stopped Caitlin just short of the gate and pointed to a small desk by the dais.

“I’ll be up there. I’m supposed to make sure that if you get rowdy that I can get to you.”

Orfeo looked down at Caitlin and smiled a little, “But you’re not going to be getting rowdy, are you?” she asked.

“No, Momma Bear,” Caitlin said with a shake of her head, still awed by the sheer size and formality of the room and everything that was going on.

“Good,” Orfeo said. She looked at the set of fixed chairs closest to them and pointed to the ones nearest the aisle. “Your family will be right here, but remember, once you’re in the center, you cannot interact with anyone outside the fence, alright?”

Caitlin nodded and looked at where Orfeo was pointing. She could see one of the workmen wiring something beneath the chair and she assumed that it was a microphone. She’d seen the broadcasts of some trials on television when she was growing up and they always seemed to have microphones where they were needed. She never expected that she’d be getting a first-hand view of how they did that. She idly wondered if her parents would even notice the cords snaking under their chairs.

“Are you ready, then, Caitlin?” Orfeo asked.

Caitlin took a deep breath, trying to steady herself for what was to come. She knew that once she walked into that circle, no matter what happened, she wouldn’t be coming out the same. Before she said anything, she turned to the guard and quickly embraced the older woman.

“Thank you, Momma Bear,” she whispered. “No matter what happens, thank you for being so kind.”

Orfeo almost started to pull away with her training and her instinct kicking in, but she held off and then embraced the little girl right back, patting her gently on the shoulder.

“You’re all right, Caitlin,” she said. Then she held on a little longer. “I’ll always remember your name, and I’ll make sure all my girls do, too.”

Caitlin didn’t know what to say to that, or even what to feel. She didn’t know if she should be grateful or depressed that Orfeo had felt the need to say it, but what finally did settle over her was a sense of calm, knowing that she wouldn’t end up nameless and faceless, and that someone would know who she was.

Finally, the two let go of each other and Caitlin nodded to Orfeo as she turned to face the gate in the railing. “I’m ready, Momma Bear.”

Caitlin couldn’t quite control the shaking that was going on and she didn’t know if she could stand much longer with her nerves the way they were, so she started forward almost before Orfeo had opened the gate. She didn’t accept any help from the guard and she walked all the way to the chair by herself. Remembering what the girl in the next cell had told her, she kept her head high as she walked, and she was gratified to see the red recording lights on all of the cameras in the corner of her vision. She knew that everyone that she knew would be watching the trial and so everyone saw her walk proudly by herself to the chair.

They didn’t see the shaking of her legs when she finally sat down, or the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes when she was facing away from the cameras, and she tried to keep her shoulders from shaking, trying to present herself as strong. What she noticed was that the more that she pretended to be strong, the more strength she started to feel inside.

She saw Orfeo walk around the outside of the railing to take up her spot just where she said she would be, and the guard gave her a small shadow of a smile as she sat down. Orfeo motioned to her watch and then held up ten fingers. Ten minutes until everything began.

Caitlin closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself back at the party, trying to remember what was behind the curtain across her memory. There was still just blackness when she tried to remember back past her and Hunter in the bed together. She could remember almost all of that clearly, but then it just seemed to skip from then to when she woke up. Sometimes when she looked back with her mind’s eye, she could see little flashes of images, but none of it meant anything and it was nothing that she could piece together into a narrative that she could tell anyone to prove her innocence.

With her eyes closed, though, she could almost imagine herself back in the library at school with the hushed voices of the workmen around her. She figured that they must be under the same rules that she was and that they weren’t allowed to interact with her. For that she was grateful. It let her remain there in her little bubble of thought until a sound brought her focus back to the room.

It was the sound of the doors opening again, and when she didn’t hear them close, she turned in her seat and watched as people started to come into the room. The first people though the doors were dressed in suits and Caitlin could see the wires of microphones attached to their lapels, and sure enough, they took their places around the cameras.

The next people to come in the door strained every last inch of Caitlin’s willpower. Her father came through the doors hand in hand with her mother while her sister walked in behind them. For a moment, her eyes locked with her fathers and he nodded solemnly at her. She could see the longing in his eyes, the instinct to run to his daughter and she could tell that he wanted nothing more than to run through the gate to be by her side, but he must have gotten the same talk that she did and he made no attempt to speak to her or in any way interact with her.

She watched as they walked to the front of the aisle and took the seats just as Orfeo pointed out. The rest of the row was empty and she didn’t think it would fill. Whenever the trials had been covered on the news, no one sat with the accused’s family, they had the row all to themselves.

As Caitlin was about to turn around, she caught a bit of movement out of the corner of her eye on the balcony and she saw Senator Lewis walking to one of the high-backed chairs. She frowned as she watched, wondering why Hunter’s father was here at her trial. Her heart gave a little leap, thinking that maybe he had something to tell the magistrate that might help her. He was always so pleasant to her when she was visiting Hunter, and she thought that he had a soft spot for her. As she watched him, though, her heart sank again, for he didn’t so much as look at her as he took her seat. She tried to meet his eyes and no matter what she did, he wouldn’t look even in her general direction.

Finally, she gave up trying to subtly get his attention and she turned back to look at her family. She could see her father looking up in the balcony at Senator Lewis, though he, too, received the same lack of attention. Frowning, her father turned her attention back to her and the shrug he gave her was just barely perceptible.

Caitlin nodded and turned back around to the front, closing her eyes again to spend the last few minutes trying again to search her memory. Still nothing came and she finally opened her eyes in frustration as she heard the doors behind her close firmly and the ones on the other side of the hall open.

She watched as a younger man dressed in a well-fitting suit walked out from behind the dais to stand directly in front of it.

“Please stand for the magistrate,” he announced in a clear and firm voice.

Everyone behind her stood and she saw Orfeo nodding to her to do the same. She took to her shaky feet and stood in the center of everything while another man, this one a large, burly, older man clothed in a long flowing black judicial gown, took his place on the dais.

“Sit,” he commanded. His voice was firm and clear and in a tone the Caitlin wouldn’t even think to argue with and she found herself sitting before she even thought about following his instructions.

All her attention was focused on the big man looming over her from his place and she began to shiver again, shaking against the chair while her breathing quickened and her pulse threatened to run away with her. She tried the breathing that she learned, but it only helped so much.

The room waited in silence while the magistrate looked over the papers in front of him. He didn’t seem hurried at all, and minutes passed by as he flipped through the leaves one at a time. Finally he flipped them all back to their original position and glared over the top of the dais.

“Caitlin Kincaid?” he asked.

Caitlin nodded and tried to find her voice. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out and all of a sudden her tongue wanted to stick to the roof of her mouth for want of any kind of moisture. She swallowed once, then again.

“Y- yes sir,” she managed to answer in a frightened squeak.

The magistrate merely glared at her over the edge of his desk, and Caitlin couldn’t help but shake a little more visibly under his gaze.

“Very well,” he said after a minute of staring. “Caitlin Kincaid, you are here before this tribunal because you stand accused of seven counts of murder. As you should know from your civics classes, Miss Kincaid, our predecessors used to divide this crime into degrees, but we have done away with such silliness. Seven people’s lives were ended, and you stand accused of the crime. The punishment mandated for a crime of this magnitude is condemnation. Do you understand, Miss Kincaid?”

Caitlin nodded again and this time, she managed to find her voice even quicker, though it wasn’t any stronger or more confident.

“Yes, sir.”

The magistrate nodded and went back to flipping through his stack of papers.

“I have here in front of me, the investigatory report of the officers who processed the crime scene, as well as the report of the lead investigator, Inspector Richard Corbett. I also have results of all tests that were performed at Sisters of Charity hospital on one Caitlin Kincaid.”

Again, he paused and flipped through some more papers, and Caitlin could feel herself working up again.

“I have reviewed all of this evidence, and we have convened here so that I may ask you any questions I have regarding the evidence and to offer you a chance to rebut any evidence you are able. You may also present any mitigating circumstances that may have bearing on the case. Once the proceeding is finished, I will review the evidence and make a ruling on the case.”

He looked up from the papers to the cameras in the room and the visitors watching from their seats.

“Members of the media and visitors are reminded that they are allowed in this courtroom at my discretion, and I will allow it only so long as my tribunal remains in order. I will not hesitate to throw any of you out on your ears should you chose to disrupt these proceedings.”

The magistrate looked pointedly at one of the reporters sitting near one of the cameras and the reporter mumbled something under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Mister Chaucy, were you saying something that would pertain to this case?” the magistrate asked.

The reporter shook his head, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“That will be your first and only warning, Mister Chaucy. I do not tolerate bullshit in my tribunal.”

Again the reporter shook his head, but he kept his seat and he didn’t speak in response. Caitlin almost felt bad for him, already having felt the scrutiny of the magistrate, but then she remembered that he was going to be one of the ones telling her story to the entire country over the evening news and all the sympathy she had for him evaporated.

“Very well, then. We shall not delay any further,” the magistrate announced.

Despite his announcement, the magistrate sat and reviewed pages and pages of documents, leaving the courtroom in utter stillness and silence while he read through passages of the reports on the table in front of him. Finally, though, he looked up and over his desk at Caitlin once again and pushed the pages to the side. From beneath the dais, he removed a pad of paper and a pen.

“Miss Kincaid, I will start with the standard questions.”

Caitlin raised her head and looked up at the magistrate sitting so imposingly behind the dais and she nodded, trying to staunch back the fear that kept threatening to rise. She took a quick glance at Orfeo who was sitting still and expressionless behind the desk where she had been the whole time. The only thing that even hinted that she saw Caitlin was the direct eye contact she made. There was no other sign from the guard and Caitlin looked back to the magistrate before she could get Orfeo in trouble.

“Were you at the address of one Amanda Brighton three nights ago?”

Caitlin nodded.

“Speak up, please for the record,” the magistrate said, sounding bored with the whole thing, as if a trial such as hers happened every day.

“Yes, sir,” Caitlin said.

“The investigation report clearly shows that Miss Kincaid was found on the premises in the morning two days ago, and that her finger prints were matched conclusively to those found on what was determined to be the murder weapon, one kitchen knife.”

The magistrate flipped through a few more pages and then stopped.

“What transpired on that night, Miss Kincaid? Tell me, in your own words, what happened.”

Caitlin looked down at her feet and she thought back again to that night as she had many times before, and she began to tell the story again, starting from when she pulled up in her friend’s driveway. She told the magistrate about the drinking and the party, seeing Josh and seeing Hunter.

When she got to the part when she and Hunter went upstairs, she faltered a little.

“Hunter and I went up the stairs to the guest bedroom that I always use when I stay with Amanda,” she said. Then she corrected herself with a pang of sorrow, “I mean, that I used when I stayed with Amanda.”

She took a shuddering breath at the reminder that she’d never be seeing her friend again no matter the outcome of the tribunal.

“We…we had sex and after that I don’t remember anything else.”

Caitlin couldn’t turn to face her mother and her father, even though she was sure that they already knew everything by now, and her cheeks burned red with shame at having to admit that to the room full of people and on television.

“You don’t remember anything, Miss Kincaid?” the magistrate asked.

“No, sir,” Caitlin said, trying her hardest to look back through the veil that just would not part. “There’s nothing after that until I woke up on the couch in the living room. I was naked and there was blood everywhere. And then I saw the bodies.”

Caitlin shuddered and hugged her arms around herself while she sat in the chair and she couldn’t stop the tears.

“I think I saw Amanda on the porch, but I didn’t get time to look before the police came in and took me away.”

The magistrate waited for a second to make sure that she was done speaking, and then flipped through some more of the reports on his desk.

“The accused’s drug panel from the hospital returned a positive result for the illicit substance ‘C,’” the magistrate intoned, reading from the page in front of him. “This substance is known to cause violent hallucinations, marked homicidal tendencies and amnesia. According to the investigatory report, the findings in inspector Corbett’s interview with the accused are consistent with use of this substance. The report from the hospital laboratory was signed by a Doctor G. Amine, pathologist.”

Caitlin wanted to stand up and shout at the magistrate that her case wasn’t boring and that he should pay more attention, and that she wasn’t just another criminal, but she felt glued to the chair. Her legs wouldn’t work and her voice wouldn’t come out as any more than a soft whisper, so she couldn’t tell him what she wanted to, even if she could somehow get up the gumption to do it. She just sat there and listened while he read off the relevant parts of the report.

“Can you refute any of these assertions, Miss Kincaid?” the magistrate finally asked.

“I’ve never done C, sir,” she said in a frantic voice. “I wouldn’t ever risk the scholarship that I got.”

“The hospital records are clear, Miss Kincaid. Your blood tested positive for that substance. Do you have any way to positively refute that claim?”

Caitlin couldn’t think of any way to tell him so that he would believe her, so she just hung her head.

“No, sir,” she said. She could feel the sobs returning and she shook softly with them, trying not to let them disrupt anything or draw more attention to herself.

“Very well,” the magistrate said as he continued looking through the papers. Caitlin could see, when she lifted her head once again, that he was nearing the end.

“My review is complete, Miss Kincaid, and I will ask you now for anything that you have to say in your defense.”

Caitlin sat there, stunned, trying to think of what she could say that might possibly sway his opinion in her favor. Her heart beat so hard that she thought it would pop out and land on his desk. Right about the time she threw up on the floor. It would be a fitting way to go.

“Mister Magistrate, sir,” she said in a quiet voice, “I don’t know what happened after Hunter and I were in the room together. I have never done drugs in my life, sir, and I didn’t at that party last night. At least I didn’t take them on purpose. Anyone could have slipped something into my drink when Hunter went to go get a refill, sir.”

The magistrate waited patiently with his hands folded on the desk, and Caitlin almost missed the little glance that he made to the upper seats where Senator Lewis was sitting. She frowned as she continued.

“Even Hunter may have given me something. But I didn’t kill anyone on purpose, and I didn’t take any drugs willingly. I was just there to drink and have a good time with my best friend.” Her voice was rising and quickening, and she finally had a little bit of strength behind it, but it started becoming choked with sobs as she finished.

“Amanda was my best friend, sir, and now I’ll never see her again. There is no way that I would ever lay a hand on her. We were sisters, and there was nothing that anyone could have done. Not even a drug would have made me hurt her. I’d have stabbed myself before her, sir.”

She finally succumbed to the sobbing and she hung her head while her body shook and shook as tears fell from her eyes on to her lap.

The magistrate waited for a minute longer until she got herself a little more under control and then gestured for her to go on, but she shook her head.

“I don’t have anything more to say, sir. That’s all I can tell you about what happened.”

The magistrate nodded and then shuffled the paper in front of him back to a neat pile and hoisted it into his arms.

“I shall return within the hour with my verdict. Miss Kincaid, you will be given five minutes, accompanied by the officer with which to use the necessary facilities, and then you will remain in this room until I return.”

Caitlin nodded and looked up at Orfeo. The guard had a serious expression on her face and it was something that Caitlin couldn’t read.

The man in the suit walked around the dais once again. “Please stand,” he ordered.

Caitlin somehow managed to get herself to her feet and stay standing while the magistrate walked out of the room through the door through which he entered. Then she let herself fall back down in the chair and cry.

After a few minutes, she became aware of Orfeo beside her and she managed to quiet down.

“Come with me, Caitlin,” Orfeo said, and she helped Caitlin to her feet and guided her through one of the doors on the far wall. Inside was a large bathroom with nothing shielded, intended for inmates to use if they needed, but without the privacy needed for them to do anything covert.

Caitlin felt she could barely stand, let alone use the facilities, but Orfeo pushed her towards the toilet in the corner. “Do yourself a favor and make sure you’re empty, okay?” she said as she turned around.

Caitlin took a breath and decided that Orfeo knew what she was talking about and she went about her business, trying to ignore the presence of the guard in the corner, even though her back was turned. When she was finished, she washed her hands quickly and walked to the door.

Orfeo opened it and led her back to her chair in the center of the room. She spared a look to her parents in their seats and saw her father shoving one of the reporters away from the family. Caitlin almost stood to help them, but her mother motioned her to sit back down with a fearful look in her eye.

The reporter decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble and went back to his camera. Caitlin couldn’t smile when she met her father’s eyes, and he didn’t try.

“We love you, kitten, no matter what,” he said before he caught Orfeo’s look and nodded. He sat by the other two ladies and took their hands in his, all three of them watching Caitlin with love and fear in their faces.

Caitlin couldn’t bear to watch them, so she turned back around and went back to her calming routine. Eyes closed, she focused on her breathing and finally she managed to slow it to a manageable level before she heard the door open again.

The smaller man was back.

“Please stand for the magistrate,” he announced.

The room stood, including Caitlin, though she didn’t know how. For some reason everything felt really strange, like she was there, but really far away, like she was watching a movie instead of standing there. She could feel her body, she could feel her shaky legs and the tears falling from her eyes, but they were all so very far away.

This time, the magistrate didn’t release the standing crowd, just stood himself behind the dais.

“I have come to a verdict,” he announced.

Caitlin felt as if she was looking down a little tunnel at the face of the magistrate facing her over the edge of the dais.

“I have found the accused, Caitlin Kincaid, guilty of seven counts of murder.”

The tunnel narrowed down until all she could see was the magistrate’s face, and she felt herself getting dizzy. Her hands felt tingly and like they didn’t want to work and her knees shook beneath her.

“I hereby declare Caitlin Catherine Kincaid condemned. Her name shall be stricken and her identity repealed by the state. It is hereby no longer a citizen, no longer a person, and shall live at the will of the state for seven days upon which time it shall be put to death by means of firing squad.

Judgment is hereby entered under my hand.”

The world finally faded to black and Caitlin felt herself falling forward, mercifully losing consciousness before her face hit the floor.


	24. Chapter 24

Corbett’s phone rang as he was sliding his service pistol into the holster on his belt. He didn’t want to answer it, but he had to keep the charade going for as long as possible. One look at the screen showed exactly what he was expecting. The caller was listed as a number with all zeroes. He looked around, making sure Jennifer was still in the shower and then answered it.

“Congratulations on the conviction, inspector,” came the now familiar voice of Lewis’ bodyguard. “Our friend is very impressed with how quickly everything happened, and he wanted to show his gratitude.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Corbett asked, feeling the anger rise in his breast. He had to focus on unclenching his fists as he talked.

“Just have a look out your front door, Inspector. I think you’ll be quite satisfied with his generosity, and he told me to tell you that if you ever need something that he owes you a favor.”

The line went dead and Corbett looked dumbly at the screen for a moment, wondering if he could find any way to trace that number back to the senator, but then he realized that it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, anyway, so there really wasn’t any point in trying. He just shook his head and put the phone in his pocket.

Hearing the water still running in the shower, he made his way down the stairs to the front door. When he opened it, he about choked on the bile that rose in his throat. Sitting in the driveway was the newest and most advanced model of the car he’d bought his wife years ago. Under the windshield wiper, in the same place he originally found the note threatening his daughter, was another note, in an envelope that looked very familiar.

He shook his head and walked to the car to pluck the envelope out of its resting place. When he opened it, the key to the car fell out in his hand and inside the envelope he found a small type-written note.

> Corbett –
> 
> Thanks for your help. The mechanics couldn’t find anything wrong with your wife’s car, and I wouldn’t want such a lovely lady driving something that might break down on her and leave her at the mercy of our city’s undesirable element. Consider this my gift to her for lending me your assistance.
> 
> Oh, and don’t forget to check the trunk. There’s a little something for you.

The note wasn’t signed, but that hardly mattered. Corbett knew who it was from and there wasn’t any point in trying to run any forensics on it. Just like the photo, he knew that the note would never have touched the senator’s hands, so there wasn’t anything to find on the thing. The most he was going to be able to get would be one of his henchmen, and after everything that had been going on, that wasn’t nearly enough to make up for it.

He slowly crumpled the note in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he walked around to the trunk of the car, using the new key to open it. Inside was a large leather bag that looked a lot like the one he carried his weapon in when he went to the range. He unzipped it and took a step back when he saw the bank notes stacked neatly within.

Fists balled again and he looked up and down the street to see if there was anyone watching, maybe one of Corbett’s goons waiting to make sure that he took the bribe, ready to film him when he did. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t have someone watching him, and he decided that he couldn’t stumble up now or everything that he wanted to accomplish would go up in flames.

Without taking anything out of the bag, he zipped it back up and closed the trunk. Then he took the key and put it in his jacket pocket while he walked back into the house.

The running water had stopped and he made his way back upstairs. He walked casually, as if nothing was wrong. He was well aware that Sylvester wasn’t in place to disrupt the cameras again, so he still had to be circumspect. As he climbed the stairs an idea occurred to him and he smiled a little. If Lewis was going to be so generous as to give him a new car, then he could very well oblige and make it his own tool in bringing the senator down.

He walked into the bedroom just as his wife was coming out of the bathroom and she looked up at him when he came in. He smiled and raised his eyebrows at her, inviting her to do the same thing. Remember, he thought, there’s nothing going on here.

She seemed to take the hint and smiled back at him, though he could tell that she was upset and scared by the way the smile didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. Still, though, it was something that would be hard to tell on a screen over the camera. Corbett crossed the room and drew Jennifer into his embrace.

“God, I’m sorry, Jen,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll make this work and we’ll all be safe, I promise.”

“I trust you,” she whispered back, “and I love you always.”

Just those words, that little validation that she loved him and thought that he was doing the right thing lifted his heart a little and eased his anger. He held her there for a minute before he let her go.

“I’ve got a car from work for the day, so if you need to go anywhere, my car is in the driveway and the keys are on the counter,” Corbett said. “Don’t forget that Sylvester’s uncle is coming by to give you a ride to dinner tonight. Wouldn’t want to get me pulled over driving drunk, now would we?”

He tried to make the chuckle sound normal and easy, but to his ears it sounded forced. He could only hope that the person on the other end of the camera didn’t know him well enough to know that the laugh was fake.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Jennifer said, “Angela and I will be ready to go.”

Corbett nodded and then kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Have a good day, Jen. I’ll see you this evening.”

Then he turned and walked out the door, still questioning if he’d made the right choice, and really, what other choice he would have if he hadn’t. At the very least, Duke would take care of his wife and his daughter if this all went sideways.

He took his usual mug off the counter and walked out the door. On the stoop, he looked again at the car that was sitting in his driveway. He’d been proud when he bought Jennifer the little sports car convertible. It was a sign that he was moving up and that he was starting to get places. She’d been so happy with that car. Now, looking at the new one in the driveway, it had turned to a symbol of shame. It was something that he would always look at and remember how he had corrupted his wife’s trust in him, hell, how he’d corrupted his own trust in himself. Lewis had taken even that away from him, and the hatred inside him grew just a little more.

Sighing to himself, he opened the door and drove out of his neighborhood with a silent vow to do everything that he could to make sure that Lewis never forgot him or his family.

\--------------------------------------

Sylvester was waiting for him in the driveway when he turned in off a shady, quiet neighborhood street. He knew where the other officer lived, and this wasn’t it, but Sylvester had told Corbett to meet him here, and it was part of the plan.

“Nice car,” Sylvester said when Corbett pulled into the driveway.

Corbett kept the engine running and gestured to the passenger door.

“Yeah, gift from Louie,” Corbett responded. “Speaking of which, let’s go for a ride.”

Sylvester’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t say anything, just climbed into the car.

Corbett pulled out of the driveway and drove for a few blocks, making a few random turns to make it look like he was going someplace purposeful, and then he pulled into a parking lot.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Sylvester asked.

Corbett shook his head and got out of the car, motioning for Sylvester to do the same. Then he took a few steps away from the car and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Lewis sent the car for my wife. Can you tell me if it’s bugged?”

Sylvester gave Corbett and incredulous look and reached into his jacket to pull out a little box with an antenna.

“I can do more than that,” he said as he turned on the box. It made a small beep and the screen on the front lit up. “I can tell you its address on the network and block it, and when we get back to the house, I can figure out some more things to do with it.”

Corbett laughed and watched as Sylvester ran his box over the car and paid closer attention to when it alarmed. When he was done, Sylvester pressed a couple of buttons on the screen and then smiled.

“All right, blocked all three of them. One’s just a location transmitter, but the others were voice and audio. I just disconnected their network signal so it looks like they’re out of range.”

Corbett nodded, impressed, then climbed back into the car and waited for his new friend to hop in the other side before he drove them back to the house.

He pulled into the driveway and looked over the home. There was nothing about the place that would separate it from any of the others on the block, or really have it stand out from anywhere else.

“What the hell is this place?” Corbett asked.

“This is one of Stringbean’s safe houses, inspector,” Sylvester said with a smile. “One of six, actually.”

Corbett frowned as he started to realize just how deep and wide Duke had spread himself and his paranoia.

“Wait. Beanpole owns six houses?”

Sylvester nodded and smiled, then turned to walk towards the door of the house. “He owns at least six. These are the ones I know about, and I’m pretty sure that he owns a few that I don’t know about. This one is kind of special, though.”

While he was speaking, he pointed to a large cable that snaked its way up the side of the house before disappearing into the wall.

“This one is set up for me.”

Corbett frowned and looked at the cable, wondering just what that meant, but when he stepped inside after the younger officer, he found his question answered straightaway. The living room of the house was stuffed wall to wall with computer equipment. There was no carpet, just a cement floor that supported racks and racks of equipment. Server racks sat in the corner and one entire wall was covered with wall-mounted monitors over more monitors that rested on desks. Corbett saw a window when he was walking up the driveway, but it must have been covered when the place was converted, because he couldn’t see any sign of it now.

Sylvester saw him looking and grinned, pointing to a little switch on the wall behind one of the monitors.

“We can turn on a light here that makes it look like whoever is home is just watching television. The light flickers and everything in time to some popular sitcom.” Sylvester laughed, “Don’t ask me which one, I never watch the things, anyway.”

Corbett looked at Sylvester and had to grin at the humor in his voice.

“All right, I won’t ask you.”

He took a look around the room, taking in all the technical equipment. He’d seen the lab at the station, and he didn’t think even it came all that close to what Duke had built here.

“He built this all for you?” Corbett asked.

Sylvester nodded and then started walking around, pressing power buttons and turning everything on. The sound of whirring fans came to life with every press and by the time he had turned on the last of the computers, the room was feeling a little warmer. The last thing he hit was a switch by the thermostat in the room, and Corbett heard a larger fan starting up just before cold air began to blow in haste out of the vents in the ceiling.

“Uncle Duke paid for my degree on the condition that I spend some time every now and again working with him on some of his projects. This house was one of the projects.”

Sylvester looked around proudly while he spoke.

“He bought this house, and me and a couple other boys from the two three gutted it and rebuilt it almost from the ground up. The only thing that’s original in the house is the outside wall. You could look at pictures from when it was first built and the only thing that might be different is the paint color. Everything else is exactly the same, except the inside.”

Corbett looked around again, and he realized that Sylvester was telling the truth. He hadn’t noticed before because the equipment took up so much of the available space that it looked a lot smaller than it was, but now that he really looked, he could see that there weren’t any separate rooms. The division in the space was all carried out by racks of equipment. All the interior walls had come down except for what he assumed to be the bathroom in the corner and a couple walls dividing a very small kitchen from the rest of the equipment.

“There’s also a basement that has all the crypto gear,” Sylvester said as he pulled a chair out from the desk.

That last comment finally lost Corbett and he gave up and let the other officer sit while he looked around. He could hear Sylvester starting to type as he wandered around a couple of the racks and to the back of the house.

What he saw on the other side of the servers made him stop and stare. Sylvester must have heard him because after a couple seconds he was there.

“Oh, yeah, and that’s uncle Duke’s touch right there, though I really didn’t have too much to complain about.”

The thing that stopped Corbett in his tracks was the far wall, hidden out of view from the front door, covered from floor to ceiling in weapon racks. Half of them were empty, but the other half held an assortment of weapons that Corbett thought only law enforcement and military could get their hands on. There were automatic rifles, a selection of pistols, some shotguns, and something that looked strangely like a grenade launcher mounted under one of the rifles.

“Where the hell did he get all this stuff?” Corbett asked.

“I never asked,” Sylvester said, “mainly because I didn’t want to know.”

Corbett nodded. “I retract my question. I don’t think I want to know, either.”

“Good choice, though I’m sure he’d tell you if you asked.”

“I try to stay away from his ramblings as much as I can, thanks,” Corbett said with a little laugh.

“Yeah, but you might try listening to him on occasion. You would have known something like this was coming down the pipe. I’ve been expecting this for a couple years now.”

“What, Lewis framing someone?”

“Well, not Lewis specifically, but when you really listen to Uncle Duke, you start to realize just how much power men like Lewis have, and I’m kind of shocked that it took this long for him to find someone who would push back.”

Corbett looked at Sylvester with an incredulous look on his face.

“So, what, you’ve watched them do something like this before?” he asked.

“Yep,” Sylvester said with a nod. “Couple of guys in my department ended up about twenty thousand richer one day, and when I went back and looked at all the logs, I found out that they’d been drumming up evidence on someone. Wasn’t my problem, though, so I just kept my head down.”

Corbett wanted to say something about the injustice or the corruption, but then he thought about it. Wasn’t he just ready to do the same thing? Do what he had to do to protect his family? And when he did, the senator showered him with gifts. He could suddenly see why things had gone the way they did for the people Sylvester was talking about. He was the one with the new car and the trunk full of cash.

“I’m just glad they found someone willing to push back, inspector. It burned me to watch people fold,” Sylvester said.

Corbett turned and looked at Sylvester and had to look away from his gaze because of what he saw there.

“Don’t you dare, kid,” Corbett growled. “I was going to do the same thing. I was going to let the girl die and I was going to do it happily because I didn’t want anything to happen to my own little girl. I ain’t no goddamn hero, so don’t you fucking dare.”

Sylvester shrugged.

“All right, inspector, but you’ve still got more backbone than any of the other ones I’ve seen. Now, are we going to do this or not?”

Corbett nodded and walked back to the computer desk with Sylvester. The younger man pulled out a chair for Corbett to sit in when they got there, and Corbett started to watch the screens. The way Sylvester moved through the software was something to behold. Quickly, one after another, he began opening windows on each of six screens in front of him. While he ran a piece of code from one screen, he focused on another that was running still other programs. After only a couple seconds, Corbett couldn’t keep track of it any longer.

Little holographic displays and controls appeared on the desk over the keyboard and Sylvester moved from the traditional keyboard to the holo controls with a practiced ease, settling his fingers in precisely the correct place every time. Every motion was accounted for as he worked. Every blink, every twitch of his eyebrow, every tilt of his head and flinch of his fingers all did something on the screens above.

“All right, inspector,” Sylvester announced after a minute, “I’m on Central. What do we need?”

Corbett looked up at the screen directly above his head and he saw the logo that was so familiar to him, the one that came up every time he booted his tablet. They were looking in the central archives, the brain of the entire country’s network, the sum of everything that had ever been written down, all conglomerated into this one system.

“Start with my case file,” Corbett said. “I want to see every version of it that central has recorded. Put them on my tablet.”

With a few gestures and a little typing, Sylvester moved the prompt expertly through the menus and the system and Corbett felt the tell-tale vibration under his coat as his tablet notified him of an update.

While Sylvester worked, Corbett pulled out his tablet and started going through all the different versions of his case file. He could see every notation made by everyone who had ever touched the case, along with any revisions that might have been made.

“Can you compare versions and just give me the summary of changes between them?” he asked.

Sylvester smiled and moved just a little more and before Corbett could even think about the differences between the first two files, he had the summary of the changes on his screen. The screen filled with comparisons of ones and zeroes, but then it resolved into something more substantial, and he could see all the revisions in every part of the case file highlighted with all of the previous versions in different colors after the final version.

He scanned the documents, looking for the original medical exam file.

While Corbett worked on his tablet, Sylvester was busy working on the bugs in the car. He mused quietly to himself while he worked about the quality that went into designing the software for them. The person who wrote the code must have been fairly proficient, but he was still easily able to get past the protection.

“What would you like me to do with the bugs in the car, Pack Rat?” he asked, smiling at the nickname that his Uncle had told him about.

Corbett looked up in surprise and grinned when he figured out how Sylvester knew the name. “Can you just disable them or would that look too suspicious?”

“I could,” Sylvester said, “but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as some of the other things that I could do with them. The guy who built these things has everything on the same network. How about I switch it with the Captain’s car?”

“The captain’s car?!” Corbett asked, completely taken aback. “He’s got the captain’s car wired?”

“Well I kind of figured that he did, and it only took a little digging to be sure. After all, you know they have to have him wired. He’s in their pocket.   He told you that.”

Corbett nodded and wondered why that hadn’t even crossed his mind. He thought in terms of how things worked in the world outside computers, and Sylvester thought of all the ways that technology worked.

“Remind me to send Duke some kind of really expensive gift when we get done with this,” Corbett said with a laugh. “I’ve got to do something with the pile of cash in the trunk.”

Sylvester laughed and went back to his screens while Corbett started looking through his file again.

Finally, he found the lab results and he frowned. There were all the revisions highlighted, and they were right where he expected them to be, but when he looked back through the revisions, there was only one revision to the values he cared about, and the history showed it as blank, as if nothing had been entered initially, and then it had been updated to a positive value.

“This isn’t right,” he muttered.

“What’ve you got, Inspector?” Sylvester asked.

“The lab reports. They all show that they were initially uploaded all blank, but they never upload a report unless it’s got something in it, so someone’s gone back and erased the revision.”

Sylvester frowned and pulled up the report himself. Some movements of his fingers and his head later, he was digging down through the lines of code and the data itself, watching numbers scroll past on one screen while the holographic display showed the data in a three dimensional representation. Whole sections had been overwritten with all zeroes, rendering the original data unreadable.

Corbett watched it all in silence and leaned back in his chair with a grunt.

“There’s nothing you can do, is there?” he asked.

“Not on this system, but hold on to your horses, Inspector. We can do this another way.”

Corbett watched as Sylvester backed out of the central database and after a couple minutes of scrolling numbers and symbols that meant less to Corbett than a foreign language, he saw the logo for Sisters of Charity appear on the screen.

“If they deleted it from Central, what makes you think that you’ll find anything on Charity’s servers?” Corbett asked.

“Trust me, Inspector,” Sylvester said with a grin. “Hospitals have a whole different way of dealing with data. It’s actually easier to get into their computers than it is to get into Central because the government won’t let them update their software to the latest, most secure version. Something about privacy laws or something.”

As he was talking, his fingers were moving on the keyboard and little windows flashed open on the screens. Corbett could feel himself getting dizzy trying to keep up with it all. Finally, he saw what he was looking for when Sylvester displayed the familiar form of the lab report that he’d almost memorized during the last couple days.

“Fortunately for us, there’s also so many laws on the books for healthcare that every hospital has two off-site backups for their stuff, and they keep every single revision.”

With another few flicks of Sylvester’s practiced fingers, more pages appeared on the screen in front of Corbett, each one showing the first entered values of the lab reports.

Corbett frowned as he read through the unearthed versions, seeing the change that the doctor had made in the positive drug analysis from Rohypnol to C, and the DNA profile that came from Kincaid’s assault exam.

Then he looked at the bottom of the page and his elation sank when he saw that Amine hadn’t signed the initial report. So now he had the data that showed Kincaid wasn’t high, and it also explained her amnesia. But all of it was worthless without the doctor’s signature or his word.

Sylvester was looking at his own versions on his screen and he noticed the same thing about the same time.

“Well, at least we’ve got somewhere to start.”

Corbett frowned and stared at the screen while he thought about how he could get the doc to admit to the false lab reports. Lewis obviously had something on him, and the doc had already admitted that much in the bar. That meant that Corbett had to make him more scared of what he had than what Lewis had.

Or maybe, if he had the same things on Amine that Lewis did, that would even the tables enough that he could lead the doc through the same change of heart that he’d have. He sensed that Amine was a decent sort when he spoke to him at the bar, he was just scared of what he’d gotten involved with.

“Can you find a security camera view of Doctor Amine’s office?” Corbett asked.

Sylvester looked at him curiously, but then turned back to the computer and started working. After a couple minutes, pictures from the security camera network started showing up on the screens. Just a moment later, one split and grew on the screen showing the doctor leaning over his microscope in his office.

“There he is. What are you looking for?” Sylvester asked.

“We need to scan back. Can the computer look through the footage and identify if there is more than one person in the office?”

Sylvester nodded. “Sure, we use a program like that on the task force. Makes it a lot easier to go through hours of tape if you know you’re looking for two subjects, or three.”

“All right,” Corbett said, “set it to look for two people in the room and if you can match it against his schedule, we can rule out meetings and conferences.”

Then he paused and thought about it a little more.

“What about facial recognition?”

Sylvester looked back at the camera view and frowned. “Well, I can probably give it an initial scan and see if we get lucky, but that’ll only work if they looked at the camera.”

“That gets us a little closer than we were to start with, so let’s get it started. Go back six months and run the program. Let’s see what we get.”

Sylvester went back to his typing. Before he got too far into it, Corbett tapped him on the shoulder.

“While you’re doing that,   I need to call Duke.”

Sylvester pulled a phone over the table and set it in front of Corbett. “It’s secure,” he said even before Corbett could ask. “Encryption I designed for the twenty third. Higher than government level. Now, let me work, that’s a lot of footage, and we don’t have the time to sit and jabber.”

Corbett smiled and picked up the phone, going through the same routine that he did at Jimmy’s.

“Beanpole, it’s Pack Rat. We’re working it, and the mice will be ready for pickup like we talked about.”


	25. Chapter 25

The distinctive tang of ammonia brought Caitlin back to consciousness. As the fog lifted from her eyes and her head, she looked around and found that she was still on the floor of the hearing room, cheek against the red carpet. For a moment, she thought she was back in Amanda’s home and if she looked to the side, she’d see the bodies that were the first things she saw that fateful morning.

But there weren’t bodies in this room, just a set of boots behind a pair of knees that rested on the carpet. Caitlin started when she saw how close they were to her face. Still caught in the grip of the memories, Caitlin struggled to push herself back, hands scrabbling on the worn red carpet, trying to get herself to her feet.

She didn’t make it far before a large hand descended on her back.

“Stay down, pussy,” growled a very familiar voice.

Caitlin didn’t need to look anywhere to know that it was Sinclair kneeling there beside her. She could feel his heavy hand on her shoulder and she could smell his breath so very close to her face. She couldn’t help the shudder that went through her body when she heard the voice and the malice behind it.

“Magistrate says that you’re guilty, sweet thing. That means your Momma Bear can’t save you now.”

Caitlin felt Sinclair’s body sinking down over her back and she shuddered again, trying to keep from crying out, calling for Orfeo to help her. She remembered seeing Sinclair coming and going in the prison, and she also remembered that when he went to the yard, no one stopped him, not even Orfeo.

At that very moment, she realized just what she was facing. Nothing had sunk in until that point, with the big, strong hand on her back and the man’s stinking breath just inches from her nose.

She felt her hands pulled behind her back and the cold metal of the handcuffs fastening around them, and soon after, she was roughly pulled to her feet. It took her two attempts to get her feet under her and stable, and when she finally did, she got her first look around the courtroom since the verdict was read.

It was empty now. All the chairs that had been filled with the spectators, news agencies and even her family were just as they were when she first arrived. Looking over the chairs, her eyes instinctively sought the section that her family was sitting in, and her heart sank when she saw the overturned chairs in the exact place her father was sitting. She could make out a red stain on the back of two of the chairs and she took a step towards them, only to be brought up short by Sinclair’s hand on her arm.

“Where you going, pussy?” he asked in a condescending voice.

His eyes followed to where she was already looking, and she could almost feel his sneer at her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right, you were already out when they clubbed dear old daddy, weren’t you?”

Sinclair laughed, and something inside Caitlin screamed out, fighting to be heard, though it never made it from her stomach. She just shook her head while she fought to tear her eyes from that stain on the chairs.

“Daddy’s going to get a taste of his own tower, pretty one. Gonna be there for a week.”

Sinclair laughed again and pulled on Caitlin’s arms, dragging her towards the door.

“Let’s go, then. There’s things that need to be done, and I ain’t got all day.”

Caitlin finally dragged her eyes away and looked to see where Sinclair was taking her. She thought that she was going to be going out the way that she came in, but when she looked, she realized that he was taking her out the side door.

It didn’t take him long, either. Caitlin had to fight to maintain her stride, and even in the short distance between her and the door, she almost lost her footing twice. Sinclair didn’t even bother to open the door, just shoved her against it and through. The door wasn’t latched, and Caitlin fell to the floor in a heap on the other side.

She couldn’t think. She could only draw her legs up against her chest and lay on the floor. In the time that she had before Sinclair closed the distance, she only had time to whimper while fearful tears filled her eyes.

Then Sinclair was back on her and yanking her to her feet once again.

The light in the room was dim, but she could still make out that she was standing in a small room with a solid concrete floor. There was no furniture. The walls and the floor were all bare, and the walls were painted the same institutional blue as the rest of the prison areas. In the center of the floor was a small drain, barely big enough for a hand to reach down if the grate wasn’t in the way.

The only thing in the room besides Sinclair and another guard that Caitlin didn’t know was a hook on the side wall. From the hook hung a very familiar object: a spotless, gleaming, white robe with a matching belt.

Caitlin saw the robe and stopped as fear overtook every muscle. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She wanted to do anything but just sit there and stare at that piece of cloth hanging on the wall. But she couldn’t take her eyes off it. The only thing that she could do was to make a low, keening moan as she played through what she saw of Poppy in the yard.

“They all make that sound, don’t they?” Sinclair said jokingly to the other guard. “I told you.”

The other guard shook his head and grinned, watching from his post by the door.

Sinclair moved closer and drew a pair of shears from his pocket. One of his big hands twisted the fabric of Caitlin’s shirt while he cut the shoulder to the neck. Then he cut along the arm and down the side.

Caitlin still couldn’t stop staring at the white robe there on the hook, even while Sinclair methodically cut the clothing from her body. It hardly registered that the clothes were the last gift to her from her mother. She couldn’t think about that right now. She could only think about what she was going to be facing when it was all over.

Sinclair made quick work of her clothing, expert hands moving as if they’d done this many times before, and Caitlin wondered if he was there personally for every condemned, just to do this. Just to be there to witness their humiliation and their shame.

Standing nude in the small room in front of Sinclair and the other guard, she tried to cover herself, but her hands were bound firmly behind her back and all she could do was hunch over and cross her legs in a futile attempt to keep the two males from looking at her.

“You’re lucky that there’s a protocol here. A tradition,” Sinclair said in his deep voice. “But don’t you worry, pretty pussy. I’m gonna have you later on tonight.”

Caitlin shuddered again and her legs buckled, sending her to the floor. She managed to keep herself from hitting her head on the floor, but just barely.

Sinclair just laughed and after a moment or two, Caitlin heard the jangling of keys and soon after, she felt the cuffs loosening from her wrist. Then they were off and she heard Sinclair putting them back in the pouch on her belt.

She put her hands under her shoulders and managed to push herself to her hands and knees, and for a moment, all she could do was kneel there, looking down at the drain. She wondered if Poppy had been here, in this room. Wondered if she’d seen the robe on the wall and had felt the exact same way. She wanted to throw up, and she tried to heave, but nothing would come. She felt the panic threatening to overtake her like it did in her cell the first night she was there. She knew that if it came, she would not be able to stop it, and then she realized that she didn’t care. That she didn’t have anything to lose if she let it win and just let herself go.

Before she could go down that road, though, she felt Sinclair’s hand on her neck, closing tightly against the back of her neck. The sensation brought her back from the brink, gave her something to focus on besides the thoughts that were racing through her head. It focused all of her on the shame and the anger that she felt for the man that held her in his grasp. She couldn’t convince her body to act on the anger, but at least it was better than the panic that she was feeling just a moment ago.

She looked up at Sinclair and something of her feelings must have shown through because the big officer laughed while he hauled her to her feet.

“Bit of a fighter, here,” he remarked as he propelled her towards the wall. He didn’t move with her, just shoved her in the direction that he wanted her to go.

Caitlin stumbled across the floor and ended up on her knees again beneath the robe. All the fear and all the anger she had stored inside finally erupted to the surface as the rough fabric of the robe touched her skin. She yelled in frustration as she pressed her back against the wall, looking at Sinclair with all the hate she could muster in her eyes.

Another laugh was all that met her defiance.

“You’re trying to be all big and strong right now, pretty girl, but you’ll find out soon enough what it means to wear that robe.”

His big fingers pointed at it as his face fell into a frown of annoyance.

“Now, put it on, or we’ll help you.”

Caitlin briefly considered refusing, but the thoughts of what they would do to her broke through her rebellious attitude. She knew that there was still the walk to the pole, and that she didn’t want to be one that had to be dragged along on a leash to her fate.

The memory of the judge’s words came through her mind again and for the first time since everything had happened, she felt a calm coming over her. There was much ahead of her in the next seven days, but at the end of it, she knew what was coming. There was nothing left for her after all of this, and the only choice left was whether she was going to be hysterical or whether she was going to face it.

She looked across the room at Sinclair and reached up to brush the tears from her eyes. Everything else about her life was taken away from her, but there was one thing that she still had control over. There was one final thing that she could do, and that was to make sure that she didn’t give Sinclair the satisfaction that he so obviously wanted.

That thought was what she needed to push herself to her feet and finally reach up to the robe hanging on the wall. She couldn’t say how long the new bravery would last, but for the time being, she let it fill her, and let the strange calm finally sink all the way over her. Her fingers closed over the rough, cool fabric and she lifted it off the hook. Slowly, with her eyes locked with Sinclair’s, she slid one arm through the first sleeve, and then the other.

Eyes calm and focused, she cinched the belt around her, and she took a little gratification in the fact that she could see the anger smoldering behind the man’s eyes. She knew that she’d never win, but by refusing to play into what he wanted, it gave her just a little bit of satisfaction.

She could also tell that Sinclair was only just able to hold himself back. She could see the tension in his body, the little trembling of his muscles as he fought with his instinct to teach her a lesson. She could see how much he wanted to. It was there, just behind his eyes, and in the teeth-baring grimace that seemed locked on his face. It was almost enough to make her composure waver, but she managed to finish tying the belt around her without faltering. It was something that she could look back at and be proud of, if only for a couple more days.

With the belt fastened and tied, she lowered her arms to her sides and stood facing Sinclair, waiting for him to come and collect her.

He didn’t wait long, and it only took him a few strides to walk across the small room. Caitlin didn’t flinch away from him, even when his strong hand closed painfully around her upper arm. She didn’t fight, but neither did she help as he pulled her arms around behind her back. The clicking and the feel of the cold metal around her wrist were becoming familiar sensations after her time here in the prison, and she was prepared for them.

“Have your moment, girly,” Sinclair whispered harshly in her ear. “There’s always tonight.”

With that, he propelled her towards the door once again and out into the hearing room. Caitlin didn’t stumble this time, and it seemed that Sinclair was walking slower, giving her a chance to walk on her own instead of merely pushing her. She didn’t question it, but she was grateful for the brief reprieve.

He led her out the doors she had entered only hours before, and when they opened, Caitlin saw her guards. Four large wolves stood in a neat formation, the same ones that she had watched from her window as they loaded their rifles and shot a poor innocent girl dead. Three of them kept their eyes forward, looking across the path formed by their bodies, weapons at the ready. The fourth, the younger one that Caitlin remembered as the one who dropped his bullet when he was trying to load his rifle, turned his head and looked at her as she walked out through the doors. On his face, Caitlin could see naked curiosity, and she felt her cheeks burning under his scrutiny. But she could see something else entirely. Doubt. She could see that he wasn’t sure about what was going on, and perhaps he wasn’t sure of his place in all of this.

She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him that what he was doing was wrong, and she thought that maybe he would be the one that would listen. But even though she wanted to, she could make no sound come from her mouth. Her jaw was locked in a closed-lip neutral expression as she tried her hardest to merely stay calm. While the calm she experienced in the dressing room was still there, it didn’t extend to making her brave enough to speak.

She merely met his eyes with her own, putting an accusatory glare into them as she regarded him. Her jaw ached from the way that she had it clenched, but she dared not relax it for fear that she would finally break down in front of the four of them. The only thing that she cared about was maintaining her composure for the next few minutes.

Without a word, Sinclair nodded at the man in the front and the four of them turned simultaneously and began walking down the familiar hallway that had brought her to the courtroom. Caitlin didn’t look anywhere but forward as she walked in the center of the guards. She noticed their weapons and the way that they marched alongside her, as if she was someone dangerous that would try to escape at a moment’s notice. It almost made her feel stronger than she really was.

The walk through the corridors didn’t take long, and when the door opened to her cell block, she let her eyes move, watching the other cells. Then she brought them right back to the front when the guards started moving again. She could watch out of the corner of her eyes as she moved through the walkway. The block was eerily quiet and every cell’s occupant was standing at the bars, watching as the guards led her towards the door. She could see Daisy in her cell with her hands clasped around the bars, and when she got close enough, she could see the glistening of tears in the other girl’s eyes.

She wanted to say something to the other girl. She wanted to thank her for her words that morning, but there was no way for her to break the step and the rhythm that she’d already assumed, and before she could find the strength to turn her head and do anything other than march between the guards, she was already past and out the door into the sunshine.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was just setting behind the walls of her block, casting long shadows up the walls. The guards stopped at the gate to the center courtyard and Caitlin stopped with them, looking ahead at the gate that separated her from the grass and the pole. How many times over the last few days had she stood here looking into that yard, wondering what the girl on the other side was feeling? Now it was her turn, and she understood completely.

Sinclair walked around from behind her and drew a set of keys from his pocket. The jingling sound of the keys mingled with the growing sound that she could hear from inside the prison, the murmurings of the girls as they started to speak about what was happening.

Caitlin took the moment or two that she had while Sinclair unlocked the gate to look up the walls and find the window of her cell that she’d been in just that morning. The sun was just shining against the glass, and as she watched, the shadow moved up over the very edge of the window sill.

Sinclair’s hand on her shoulder brought her back and she started walking forward again, through the gate. The other guards stayed on the outside, two on either side, and she walked with her head up between them, despite the fact that she felt as if she wanted to find a dark corner and crawl into it for the rest of her life. She managed to keep it up until she got to the pole.

Sinclair stopped her and with his big hand on her chest, he pushed her back up against the white pole. He had stopped to pick up the collar when she had been looking at her old room, and he reached up with it.

It was cold and it was heavy when he fastened it around her neck. Sinclair tightened the bolt through it and then spun it so that the catch was to the pole. Then he reached down and picked up the chain from the grass. Caitlin noticed that it was still lying in the stain left from Poppy’s blood on the grass.

She felt the tug as Sinclair pulled her collar back and with a final click, the lock fastened home and she was secured to the pole.

Sinclair took one step back and she held his eyes for a moment. Then with a precise movement, he turned on his heels until his back was facing her. He stood there for a moment, and then turned and marched out of the courtyard. Caitlin followed his movement with her eyes, and noted that it was the younger guard that closed the gate behind him, locking her forever away from her former life, and any chance of ever seeing it again.

Still she held herself standing upright until the last of the guards had filed back in to the building, leaving her alone standing at the pole. Through the window beside the door, she could see the familiar outline of Orfeo, of Momma Bear. Her hand was pressed to the glass as she looked out at Caitlin, and that was the final straw.

Caitlin’s legs gave out from under her and she sank to her knees as sobs wracked her body. For the first time during the whole terrifying day, she let the fear and the terror take her and all she could do was shake on the grass as the fear tore a sharp, anguished wail from her throat.


	26. Chapter 26

Corbett stood up from the chair and stretched, surveying the room that he’d just spent the last six hours in. Two pizza boxes and an empty soda bottle rested on a folding table off to the side with a small stack of paper plates on the edge. Two well-used mugs sat on the table between the keyboards.

Sylvester had a sense of just how much coffee two cops could drink in a day and both mugs were of the oversized variety that put any normal coffee mug to shame. He’d already impressed Corbett with the mugs, but when the inspector saw the size of the brewing apparatus that he’d wired up in the house, he thought about giving Sylvester the entire suitcase of money from the trunk to get him to set that up in his own house.

Then he realized that he wasn’t going to be going back to the house again, and that brought his spirits crashing down.

It had been hours since Sylvester started combing through the data from the cameras and they’d gotten many hits, but none of them had been anything special. Just other doctors and some nurses coming for lab reports.

Corbett yawned and walked nervously around the room, noticing that it had gotten much warmer since they first started that morning. He could hear the fan in the attic struggling to keep up with the heat that was building up from all the computer equipment working overtime.

As he was about to start toward the door for a step outside into the fresh air, a loud beep signaled yet another find on the footage. After so many that they’d found so far, Corbett wasn’t holding his breath on this one, but he stopped anyway, figuring that he should at least take a look. It might be a few minutes until the machine found another match. He could put off his walk for long enough to rule out the new piece of video.

Corbett leaned closer to the main monitor where the new footage was beginning to play and his brow furrowed as he watched.

The video showed Amine at his desk typing at the computer while a figure moved across the shaded office window. Corbett knew from watching the other footage that the window looked out into the main hospital lab, and that a walkway ran right in front of that window. It wasn’t all that uncommon to see the staff walking by that window, but shortly after the figure crossed the window, the door opened and she stepped into the office.

Corbett and Sylvester both had a pretty good idea by now of the people that were frequently in Amine’s office, having looked at so many different scraps of footage that they could almost identify who the visitor was by their walk and the way that the entered the office, and they could do it within a couple seconds of the footage starting.

This visitor, though, didn’t look like any of the others, and she wasn’t in hospital attire. No scrubs, no lab coat, and no suit. In fact, she was dressed so very unlike a hospital employee that it was striking she was allowed in at all. Quickly, his eyes flicked to the time stamp on the footage. 21:48:36 was the readout in the bottom corner of the screen.

“Who the hell-“ Corbett started to ask.

They’d found that the camera was almost perfectly positioned for facial recognition, situated directly above Amine’s desk with a wide-angle view of the office, so when the new person walked into the office, they could see almost a straight view of her face.

Corbett leaned a little closer still towards the screen as Sylvester started up the facial recognition software. The video paused when they had the clearest view. The visitor was obviously female with the softer features that implied. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail behind her head. The footage was black and white, so they couldn’t tell the hair color, but it was dark. She was wearing a short skirt, knee-high boots, and a jacket that looked familiar to Corbett.

It only took him a moment to place it as the letter jacket from the high school near the hospital. He and Jennifer had been by to look at the place when they were discussing what they wanted to do to once Angela got to the point of starting high school. Jen wanted to send her to public school and Corbett wanted to send her to private academy, and they were each trying to change the other’s minds.

Nothing had been worked out, but he did get a pretty good sense of what the high school uniforms were, as well as the coveted jackets.

And that meant that the girl in the video was eighteen at the very latest. His practiced eyes were telling him, though, that the girl was nowhere near as old as that. He was betting on sixteen, seventeen on the outside.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Corbett whispered as the video began to play again.

On another monitor, a readout of the facial recognition software began combing through all of the records in central that had attached photos of faces. Sylvester had already keyed in most of the relevant details that would narrow down the search. Corbett noticed that they were of the same mind on the girl’s age, as Sylvester had put in a range of fourteen to eighteen.

As he watched, the girl walked into the office and closed the door behind her. Without any hesitation, she walked around the desk and smiled at the doctor. The sound was turned off on the video to save bandwidth on their connection, but it didn’t take a lip reader to know what was being discussed. Corbett watched as the girl threw her arms around the doctor and slid herself into his lap.

After only enough time that he could verify that everything he suspected was true, he turned his eyes away from the monitor.

“Turn it off,” he told Sylvester.

The other officer quickly stopped the footage and the monitor went blank.

“Well, now we know what Lewis had on the doc,” Sylvester said. “What do you want to do about it?”

Corbett didn’t have to think for very long.

“Make me a copy of that. All of it. And then get me the name on that girl. I think I need to go have a chat with the good doctor.”

With a few keystrokes, Sylvester started the copy while the software continued to work through the data. Sylvester hadn’t limited it to the high school only, figuring that it might be another student’s jacket.

Even so, by the time Corbett had downloaded all of the data from the feed into his tablet, the computer beeped, signaling a match. When he looked up into the monitor he stopped and stared, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Sylvester was doing the same. The name on the screen was something that he would never have expected in a million years.

“Stephanie –“ Sylvester said.

“-Amine,” Corbett finished. “Stupid, perverted son of a bitch.”

“My God,” Sylvester said, shaking his head while he copied all the data to the inspector’s tablet. “His daughter?”

“Step daughter,” Corbett corrected. “From what the record says, he married her mother a few years ago, back before she was in high school.” He shook his head again, “Lewis had him good.”

“Jesus. You’re not kidding. All right, Pack Rat, you’ve got all the data, including the bio on Stephanie and the doc. Hope you can do something with it.”

“We’ll see,” Corbett said as he gathered his keys and tablet off the desk. “Make sure you keep the trackers down on the car. If I’m not back in three hours, get out of here and make sure that Jennifer and Angela get out.”

“You got it, inspector. I’ll see what else I can dig up in the meantime. Good luck.”

Corbett nodded and walked out the door into the afternoon sun. After so long in the house, it took him a minute to get used to the bright outdoors again. That gave him a minute to pause outside the door and collect his thoughts. He tried to make sense of everything, but it just wouldn’t fall into place. It was just one giant shit storm that had all come together perfectly for the senator. The senator seemed like the kind who would make his own luck, though, and probably didn’t need the perfect storm that had actually happened to make sure that he wouldn’t suffer politically for what his kid did.

Now he just had to figure out how to get the doc to sign off on the original lab results so that he could add them to his case. There had never been a condemnation that was overturned before. He just hoped that with enough evidence, he could make it happen anyway.

He took a breath and headed to the car, tucking his tablet into its holster as he walked. He opened the door, slid behind the wheel and then pulled out of the driveway, heading to the hospital.

\-------------------------------------

It didn’t take much talking to get into the lab or into Doctor Amine’s office once Corbett arrived at the hospital. All it took was a flash of his badge and a mutter of “official business” to get him wherever he needed to go. The hospital had a good working relationship with the police department and no one there wanted to jeopardize that. After he got turned around once, he even found an orderly to take him right where he needed to go.

The doctor looked up from the microscope on his desk and Corbett could see the color drain just a little from his face.

“Inspector. I didn’t expect to see you here. What can I do for you?”

“We need to talk, doc. I think it might be better somewhere a little less public,” Corbett said, flicking his eyes to the camera in the corner. After so many different pieces of footage, he knew exactly where it was.

Amine saw where Corbett’s eyes looked and he nodded. “There’s a nice garden path outside the rehab unit. It’s nice and shady.”

Corbett nodded and watched the doctor carefully as he stood and led the way out the door and down the hall. The hospital was built wing after wing, sprawling out over two city blocks, each part added onto the last. The lab was in one of the outer additions, away from the older building in the center, and it only took a couple minutes of walking for them to emerge into a quiet garden area. Corbett could see the patients through the glass in their rooms, working with their therapists. Some were walking, some were merely re-learning to stand. It seemed an odd place to have the discussion that was coming, but none of the windows were open to the garden, so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“What the hell are you doing coming to my office, Inspector?” Amine demanded once the door had shut behind the two of them. “I told you, I can’t help you any more.”

“I know why that is now, doc,” Corbett said, stopping to face the irate Amine. “Tell me about Stephanie.”

Amine’s face turned a whiter shade of pale, but his eyes hardened. “My daughter?” he asked, “What does she have to do with anything?”

Corbett could hear the slight waver in the man’s tone that told his experienced ear that he was hiding something. It was always a sure thing when he heard that.

“You ever bring her to work with you? Show her all the interesting things that you do here?” Corbett’s voice stayed even and conversational, sounding for all the world like he was just shooting the breeze with a friend.

“What? No. She doesn’t have any interest in what I do, inspector.” Amine glared at Corbett, “Now why are you asking me about my daughter?”

Corbett didn’t answer right away. He pulled his tablet out from the holster and pulled up the footage that they’d found. Without another word, he started it playing and handed the tablet to the doctor.

Amine swiped the tablet from Corbett’s hand and looked at it. Corbett watched as the doctor’s face fell into a scowl and then he watched the remaining color drain from the man’s face as the video played on.

“This is what Lewis has on you, isn’t it, doc?” Corbett asked.

Amine sighed and nodded, not able to speak with his eyes locked on the footage.   His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, and then shut again. The doctor just stared at the tablet screen until finally he found his voice again.

“Not this tape specifically, but yes. He knows about my relationship with Stephanie.”

Corbett could see the fear in the man’s eyes.

“I have the proof on the lab results, doc. I found the original entry, the one that says Kincaid was negative for C.”

“How did you-“ Amine stopped and stared at the inspector, “I never signed that, and Lewis’ goons were supposed to erase it. How did you find it?”

“Determination, doc. That and I hate when someone goes after my family.” Corbett took the tablet back from the doctor and pulled up the lab results.

“You have all the information, then, Inspector. Why are you here talking to me?”

“I need you to sign the original lab results, doctor. It’s no good without your signature. And I need a signed statement from you saying that you altered the results. I’d prefer you told the whole story about who made you do it, too.”

Amine’s fists clenched and he turned away back towards the door. “I can’t do that, Corbett. You know what will happen if I do that?”

“The same thing that’s going to happen to me, doctor. I know that if I do this, I’m never going to work on the force again. My career is going to go down the drain. And I’ll have Lewis to deal with, too.”

Corbett walked ahead of the doctor and put his big hand on the door to keep Amine from opening it.

“This is going to come out, doc, one way or another. Either I’m going to put it out there or Lewis is. You’re in the middle of something huge, and I’m sorry you’re in the crossfire. Go out with some honor, doc. Don’t fizzle out and let Kincaid die because you don’t have the spine to fess up and take your lumps.”

Corbett put all the emotion he could into his voice. Everything that he had felt over the past few days he let seep into his voice as he pleaded with the doctor.

“You can at least make something good come out of this, doc. You can save the Kincaid girl.”

“Lewis will kill me, you know. Him or his goons.”

“I can get you out of here and out of his range, doc. But it’s a limited time offer. I’m going to be just as much a target as you before long, and when that happens, I’m taking care of me and my family. What do you think that Lewis is going to do to you when his leverage evaporates?”

Corbett held out the tablet again.

“Because I guarantee you that if you don’t help me, all the news stations in the city are going to be playing this non-stop for a week. You’re going to be a liability either way, so let me help you.”

Amine tried to pull open the door, but Corbett kept it closed, staring at the side of the doctor’s face, intense gaze fixed while Amine looked pleadingly at the door handle, as if he could convince the door to open without looking at the inspector.

Finally, the turned and sagged against the door.

“All right, Corbett. You win.”

The doctor’s eyes rolled up to meet Corbett’s.

“I’ve got the paperwork in my office. Come with me, and I’ll sign the lab report.”

Amine took another deep breath and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “I even have the statement. I wrote it up a couple days ago in a fit of conscience.” He laughed, and Corbett winced at the harsh sound. “I didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”

“Now you can, doctor. And I’ll get you out of here before I do anything with it, I promise.”

Corbett knew that he could get Beanpole to go along with his plan, and by the end of the day, the doctor would be out of the city and somewhere that the senator couldn’t find him. He let up on the door and stood back so that Amine could open it.

Without another word, the two of them walked through the hallways back to the doctor’s office. True to his word, Amine pulled out a thin file folder with the original results and a typed document inside. Both were already signed.

“You’re doing the right thing, doc. Thank you.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t shown up here, Corbett. Get out before I lose what little spine I’ve found.”

Corbett nodded and then turned and walked out the door. He had one piece of the puzzle, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more before he could go and visit the magistrate and make his case. He still had some work to do.


	27. Chapter 27

Corbett pulled his phone out as soon as he walked out the front door of the hospital. In his other hand, he clutched the folder that Amine had given him, afraid to even let his grip slacken on it for fear that it would be carried away by the wind, or perhaps someone would snatch it from his grasp. He’d programmed Sylvester’s number into the phone before he left so he wouldn’t have to remember it.

“Sylvester, get Beanpole on the line and get him to send someone out to keep an eye on the doctor. We’re going to need him.”

“You got it, inspector. You want to get him out of the city right now?”

“No,” Corbett said after a moment’s thought. “We need him here for the next couple of days, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t at least give him a little cover.”

“All right. Where are you headed?” Sylvester asked.

“I’ve got to go and make sure that my family gets out safe,” Corbett said.

“You sure you want to do that, Rat?” Sylvester asked. “If Lewis or his goons see you out there, he’s gonna know something’s up.”

“I know, but I have to be there. It’s just something I’ve got to do.”

“Okay. What else do you need?”

“I’m going to go see what I can track down about Hunter. The lab results are just the first part of the puzzle, and I’m going to need all the pieces before I go in front of the magistrate. See if you can give me a location on him. Maybe if I can get him alone, I’ll be able to talk some sense into him.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Corbett could hear typing in the background.

“All right, inspector, it looks like Hunter has one of the newer phones. It’ll take me a while to get plugged into it and get you a location, but I should have it by the time you’ve taken care of your family.”

Corbett didn’t say anything else, just hung up the phone and walked across the parking lot to his car. He half expected to see another note under the windshield, thinking that despite everything that Sylvester had done to keep the tracking off of him, Lewis’ goons would have found him anyway. He sighed in relief, though, when he came around the corner and saw that there was nothing there waiting for him.

He slid behind the wheel and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for downtown. He’d been at his wife’s office plenty of times before and it was easy enough to navigate the familiar streets. He knew he shouldn’t be going in person, but he had to be sure. He had to see with his own eyes that his family was safe.

The street outside the office building that housed his wife’s office and the associated labs was mostly empty, with only the standard cars parked along the street. Usually, the street was busy enough that parking was at a premium. Today, though, he managed to find a spot almost directly across the street from the main entrance.

Years of living in the city had made it easy for him to slide into any parking space he could find, especially with his wife working so close to the city center. He always griped about how hard it was to get to her building and how surrounded by the bustle of the city it was, but today he was glad for the extra motion and the people. It would be easier for his wife to slip away and meet Duke’s men.

His practiced eyes roamed the street once he had the car stopped and turned off. The meeting wasn’t for another twenty minutes, and he gave himself the time to look at every vehicle parked on the street. It was something he’d learned over the years of policing the south side. If something felt out of place, it probably was.

That was why the grey car at the end of the block caught his eye. It wasn’t something blatant, or something that screamed out to his conscious mind. It was a combination of things. It was the way that the car was parked, just like his, ensuring that there was enough room in the front to get out of the spot quickly. It was the way that the wheels were turned out to the street, even though all of the others around it had their wheels pointing straight forward.

Or perhaps it was the vague silhouette he could discern through the shaded glass. Whatever it was, he focused on that grey sedan while he pulled his phone out to call Sylvester again.

“Leonard,” he said when the other officer answered, “I need a plate.”

He read the plate off into the phone and waited while he listened to the typing in the background again.

“Holy shit, inspector, that’s SNAG.”

Corbett paused, at a loss for words. SNAG was the State Narcotic and Gang division. “Why is SNAG sitting outside my wife’s office?”

“I don’t show any active investigations outside of gangtown, inspector. There’s nothing going down today. Hold on.”

More typing sounded over the phone, interspersed with pauses and muttered curses.

“I’m pushing through to the secure section on Central. If there’s anything that SNAG’s up to, it’ll show up there.”

Corbett waited while Sylvester worked his magic, still in awe of the younger officer’s skill with the tech. If they all got through this, he was going to have to sit down with Sylvester and learn whatever he could. Some days it was a wonder that he could use his phone without someone holding his hand.

“All right, inspector. I’ve got four ops on the board right now. One warrant out on seventy third, one undercover running something for Homeland, and two training ops. One’s showing your address there, and the other one is out on fifth. From the map, it’s right outside…”

“Angela’s school,” Corbett finished for him.

“What the hell? There’s no way they could have known about all this, inspector. Our crypto is too good for them to crack. I designed it, and even I can’t crack it. How the hell did they know about it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Knowing Lewis, he’s probably just hedging his bets. He doesn’t strike me as someone who takes chances.”

Corbett remembered the conversation with Lewis and that the senator had told him he’d be watching his family until after everything was done.

“All right, I’ve got something we can do. I’ll call you back,” Corbett said and then hit the end button on his phone.

He watched the silver car for a moment longer, thinking. It figured that Lewis would send the gang unit. They were the ones that did all the undercover buys for the police force. They were the ones that fit in with the misfits of the city so well that they were accepted in some of the roughest parts of town.

And if he’d gotten two of them to do his bidding, then the chances were that there were more that were corrupt in the unit. It didn’t take a leap of imagination to think that some of the undercover guys would go a little rogue. They played with millions of dollars worth of drugs and weapons and money on a daily basis. How much temptation, then, would it take to get them onto the side of someone who could give them that for real instead of for play like the department did.

Still, the fact that he’d used that unit gave Corbett a little bit o an edge over any other unit. That thought had him smiling as he touched another number into his phone.

“Ricky? S’that you?” Corbett could hear the kind and familiar voice over the phone and he couldn’t help but smile. The old man sounded worried, but he wouldn’t let that stop him at all. He couldn’t have asked for a more loyal friend.

“Yeah, Jimmy, it’s me,” Corbett took a deep breath. “I was hoping I wouldn’t need to ask you, but do you remember what we talked about?”

“Course I do, Ricky. You ready for me and my boys, then?” Jimmy sounded eager and Corbett could almost see him with that intense stare that he always had on his face when he got interested in something.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Corbett quickly explained the situation to his friend and when he was finished, there was silence on the other end of the line.

“Where do you want the boys, Ricky? You want us to go make sure your girl is okay?”

“No. I’ve got someone coming to pick the two of them up, but they’re going to get made when they come by. I need you and the boys to get something going down off of seventy third. It’s got to be something big, Jimmy.”

Jimmy scoffed and Corbett could almost hear him rolling his eyes over the phone.

“The boys all remember you, Ricky. You did right by all of us. Ain’t been another dude as straight as you since you left, and they all want to return the favor. There’s probably a hundred guys here that want in on this. You want a riot? We’ll give you a riot.”

“You’re amazing, Jimmy,” Corbett said hoping that the huge smile on his face translated over the phone. “Tell the boys that if everything goes off, I’m going to start a block party for them.”

“I’ll tell ‘em, Ricky. Just make sure you live up to it, huh?”

“You got it, Jimmy. Go get your boys. I need them soon. You got about thirty minutes.”

“We’ll be there. Just you worry about getting your lady and your girl. Then you can do right by that Kincaid girl like you done right by us.”

“Thanks Jimmy.”

It didn’t seem nearly enough to say given what he was asking them to do. The plan was for Jimmy and whoever he could scare up to go out and cause a disturbance wherever Corbett needed them to. A big enough fight in just the right place would get people’s attention and it might draw off the manpower that was needed to keep his wife and daughter under watch. By starting a riot on the same street that a SNAG officer was serving a high-risk warrant, they’d get all the other SNAG units running for fear that an operation had been compromised or something.

Corbett put the phone in his pocket, wishing for the moment that he had something he could do other than wait.   He stared at the grey car, watching the silhouette inside. He couldn’t do anything until that car left, and he still had close to half an hour before Duke’s guys arrived to get his wife out.

They’d be picking up his daughter, too, but Corbett could only watch one at a time. He figured that Lewis would be more likely to move against Jennifer than risk being tied to something that hurt a kid. Though Lewis seemed like the kind of man who would do whatever he needed to do to get what he wanted, he didn’t start out with high-risk tactics. If he knew what Corbett was up to, then he’d start with Jennifer and he’d probably only go after Angela if that didn’t work.

While he waited for Jimmy and the boys to get the riot started, he pulled his tablet onto his lap and went over the case file, trying to find the holes that he could make even larger. He had the falsified lab report and the confession from Amine. The man would never work as a doctor in the city again, but at least he’d find a way out.

Now he had something that said that Kincaid was likely not the killer, but he needed more to go on. The Magistrate wouldn’t reverse his decision on just a maybe or a likely. He needed something solid, and he needed another suspect. He needed to be able to pin the blame where it really belonged, back on Hunter Lewis.

Every angle that he thought through in his head was sure to be blocked by the Senator. If he could just talk to the kid, he was sure that he could get the kid to give him something, but that required the senator letting him sit down with the boy, and that was unlikely to ever happen.

He started making notes on his tablet, reminding him to talk to Sylvester about a blueprint for the Lewis house. Maybe he could get inside and talk with Hunter there. There had to be a way for him to get alone with him.

A starting engine had his head lifting from his thoughts and his notes and when he looked out the windshield, he couldn’t help but smile triumphantly. The grey car was starting up and pulling away from the curb. As it pulled out into traffic and started down the road with a squeal of tires, Corbett’s phone rang on the seat beside him.

“Corbett,” he answered.

“Inspector, I don’t know if I want to know how you did it,” Sylvester’s excited voice came through loud and clear, “but the radio is screaming about riots and looting on seventy third, just a few blocks from where SNAG was serving that warrant. They managed to get a reporter there, too, and the news is covering everything.”

“That would be just like Jimmy to give the news a warning so they could cover it. It’ll give the department a black eye and the chief will be all over everyone he can to get them down there.”

“That’s perfect, Inspector. The news is saying there’s a couple hundred people tearing things up. Shit’s on fire!”

Corbett shook his head and laughed, “Call Beanpole and tell him we need him now.”

“You got it, inspector. He should only be a few minutes away anyway, and it’s going to take them a week to get the mess on seventy third cleaned up. Looks like every officer in the city is heading that way. Bet you’re glad that it’s your day off, huh?”

“Sylvester, you have no idea.” Corbett laughed and hung up the phone. Just the thought of what Jimmy and his boys were doing was enough to hold a smile on his face. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to the ones that the force caught. He owed Jimmy big for what he’d done.

He looked back at the door to the office building as Jennifer came out the door. She looked one way and then the other and took a seat on the grey brick wall just to the side of the door. Still looking down the street, she pulled her phone out and dialed, then held it up to her ear. Corbett’s phone rang and he answered it right away.

“Hi, hon,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Hi, yourself. I’m outside waiting for Duke.”

Corbett ached to tell her that he was watching over her, but he didn’t want her looking for him. There still might be someone watching, and any proof that he knew what was going on would be used against him in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“He’s always on time, honey. He’ll be there.”

As he said the words, a dark colored minivan turned the corner. The van looked like it had seen the bad end of too many soccer games. Dents and dings covered most of it, and there were parts that were obviously repainted. Corbett looked again through the window as it drove past and smiled when he saw the man behind the wheel.

It was one of the old non-coms that used to help him keep order in the twenty third. Duke must have had his fingers in about every pie in that unit, given how many people he managed to get on his side when they got out. Just seeing the familiar face put him a little more at ease. He knew that the man was competent and he would keep his wife safe.

He watched as the van pulled to a stop outside the building. The driver rolled down the window and said something to Jennifer. She looked over at the van and smiled.

“You’re right, hon. He’s here now. I’ll see you soon.”

“No matter what happens,” Corbett said, “I love you.”

Jennifer hung up the phone and walked to the van. She talked with the driver for a minute and then went around the far side and slid into the passenger seat. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, just a nice lady getting a ride home from a friend.

Corbett sighed in relief as the van pulled around the corner and then he started his car and drove off after them, giving them a little lead time so that it wasn’t obvious he was connected to them. Without even thinking about it, he started driving towards Angela’s school. He was hoping to pass the car that had picked her up.

He had only driven a couple of blocks before the phone rang again. Sylvester’s number popped up on the screen.

“What’s up, Sylvester?” he asked after he hit the answer button.

“Just wanted to let you know that everything went smooth with your daughter, inspector. She’s been collected and she’s on her way out to Stringbean’s ranch. Everything go okay with Jennifer?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“All right, then, Inspector. They’re out of harm’s way. Let’s get down to business. What’s the next move?”

“I’ve got to talk to Hunter,” Corbett said as he turned the car toward the Lewis house. “Think you can find me a way in to talk to him?”

“Hold on a second, Inspector. I’m getting some chatter on the radio. With the riot going on, it’s getting drowned out, but there’s a missing persons call from the Lewis house. It’s not going to be long before central starts dispatching more units to that.”

“Is it Hunter?”

“Yeah, looks like he’s been missing for a few hours. He’s not in the house, and the Senator called it in personally. It’s his voice on the call.”

“Where would he go?” Corbett wondered out loud. “Think he’s got his phone with him?”

“It’s not something I’d do, but then again people do dumb things all the time. Want me to try tracking it?”

“Yeah, give it a shot. Sometimes luck favors the foolish.”

“Did you get Chinese when you were out, inspector? That sounded like a bad fortune cookie.”

“Something my grandfather used to say all the time. Just try the cell.”

Corbett pulled off the road into an empty parking lot and stopped the car while he listened to Sylvester typing up a storm in the background. After so much risk, it was still gratifying to know that the other officer put as much importance on this as he did. He could tell that Sylvester wanted to get the truth as much as he did.

“I think I got it, inspector, but I’m not sure that it’s the right location. The crime scene boys went over the Brighton’s house with a microscope, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, as thoroughly as always. They don’t usually miss anything,” Corbett frowned. “Why?”

“Well, Hunter’s phone is there. Can’t tell you whether he is or not, but his phone is definitely there.”

Corbett frowned even deeper.

“Okay, Sylvester. I’m heading there now. I’ll call you when I get there.”

Corbett pulled out of the drive and turned down the road, trying to figure out if someone had just missed the phone in a bedroom or something or if Hunter had really gone back. They hadn’t let the Brighton’s back into the house yet, since it was still an ongoing investigation, and it would remain that way until after Kincaid’s days were up.

Corbett had questions, and now he knew where some of his answers lay.


	28. Chapter 28

The drive to the Brighton’s house brought the same feelings that Corbett had felt the first time that he drove along the wooded street. His heart was racing and he could almost feel his hands beginning to shake. The first time that he had come up here was after he received the assignment to the case, and the feelings were from the excitement of being handed a case that he knew could make his career. He had known at the time that if he handled it right, there might be a shot at the chief’s desk in his future.

Now, though, the drive through the trees with the sun beginning to set brought a whole new reason for the heartbeat that he could hear as well as feel in his head. He knew this time that no matter what happened from here on out, he was never going to be able to continue being a cop. The moment that Duke’s men had picked up his family had changed all that. The SNAG officers would eventually come back and find out that the targets they were supposed to be watching were nowhere to be found.

It might take a while, but eventually word would bet back to Senator Lewis, and that would be the beginning of the end. The cover that Sylvester gave him with the hacking of the bugs in his car would only last so long until the whole trail that they’d built collapsed.

He could only hope that it held up long enough for him to get done with what he needed to do. It had to last long enough for him to get something from Hunter and get it in front of the magistrate. Once that happened, he could trust Duke to get him out of whatever jam he was in, and failing that, he could at least trust his friend to take care of his family.

The Brightons lived far enough out of the city that the drive had time to get monotonous, especially in the fading light. Trees lined both sides of the two-lane street, and the shadows were already getting dark beneath the canopy of leaves that they put out over the road. With the window down, Corbett could smell the stagnant, humid summer air. In the evening, the heat wasn’t bad, even in the summer, and with the car moving at a respectable clip, it kept the air inside the vehicle moving enough that it was actually pleasant.

Corbett watched the road in front of him, illuminated by his headlights and tried not to think about the way that this was going down. He wanted so much to be at Duke’s ranch with his wife instead of working through the rest of this case. That would be the easiest road, to just turn tail and run. It would be just a simple matter of leaving the Senator to do what he wanted to do and he wouldn’t have to worry about looking over his shoulder.

But the sound of the Kincaid girl’s voice haunted him still. He could still hear the fear and the bewilderment in it during the interview. No, he had to stick it out to the end.

The turnoff was right where he remembered it. He’d nearly missed it the first morning in his excitement to get to the crime scene. The dirt road was sheltered between two very large pines and it was difficult to see. As he slowed down, though, he could see a fresh set of tire tracks dug into the gravel. They were too close together to be a police cruiser, and the tires were thinner than he’d expect on one of their vehicles. It looked like a compact car’s tracks.

He slowed even further, turning into the driveway with as little sound and dust as he could. Little by little, with his foot almost off the accelerator, he crept the car up the dirt road, almost wincing at the crunching of the gravel under his tires. If anyone was outside, they were sure to hear him coming, but if they were inside, he might still have the benefit of surprise.

The car’s headlights illuminated the road in front of him and the trees to the side. The sun had set far enough that without the aid of the headlights, all he could see were shadows beyond their glare.

At the end of the drive, the gate to the house stood open and the official police cordon had been moved away from the opening. He could see the remnants of the crime scene tape hanging off the end of the gate, fluttering lightly in the barely perceptible breeze.

He remembered that the gate was out of sight of the rest of the house, hidden behind some trees and an outbuilding, and when he pulled in through the gate, he steered the car to a stop behind the small storage shed, then killed the engine.

With the motor stopped, he sat in the car with the window down and listened. The only thing that met his listening ear was the sounds of the frogs in the pond off to the east, and the sound of crickets and cicadas in the trees. The smell of jasmine crept through the window, carried by the same slight breeze that fluttered the tape on the gate.

Satisfied that no one was coming to greet him, he eased open the door and slid out of the seat. There had to be someone else here. He hadn’t seen any tracks going out of the driveway. Judging by Sylvester’s trace, it had to be Hunter. The teenager had murdered seven people with what looked like anything he could get his hands on. Corbett was acutely aware of that, but that was the boy on C. Would he be here getting high again?

As much as he wanted to believe that Hunter wasn’t here to do exactly that, he couldn’t justify it. So with a quick look around the area of the yard he could see, he eased his pistol from its holster on his hip and held it at the ready.

After a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the darkened house and yard, he started making his way to the front of the house, using bushes and trees for cover, his alert eyes watching the house for any movement. As he got closer, he could make out the forms of the vehicles that were still at the front of the house. Crime scene officers had gone over them all with their usual precision and attention to detail, and none of them had needed to bring any of the cars back to the lab. They were all clean.

By now, after living with this case for as long as he had, Corbett could pinpoint which car belonged to which victim. But there was an addition tonight, and it was parked right beside Kincaid’s little red car. Another compact, this one black, but the same make and model, just a couple years newer sat in the gravel close enough that the cars themselves made a couple.

Corbett took another look towards the house, finally able to make out the front porch, and he waited, looking for any movement or any other sign of life. When he saw none, he crossed the drive to the pair of cars. Kincaid’s hadn’t moved an inch since he was here the last time, but the hood on the black one was warm to the touch, and he heard the clicking sounds of a cooling engine telling him that it wasn’t all that long ago that the car had been running.

He carefully eased the door open and looked inside, squinting his eyes against the sudden assault of the car’s dome light. Sitting on the black leather passenger seat was an open box of ammunition. It was meant for a revolver, and from only a cursory glance at the box, there were five cartridges missing, enough for a standard load in one of the lighter pocket-size revolvers.

Corbett made a note of it and slid into the car. He carefully looked over every surface and opened every compartment and pocket he could find, trying to find anything else that would tell him more about the Lewis boy. He was up here for a reason, but nothing in the car hinted to what that reason was, other than the ammunition.

Corbett carefully slid back out of the car and gently closed the door, latching it just enough that the dome light extinguished, then looked up at the house. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to search the house. He’d never wished for backup more than he did right then, but there was no way to call for any without tipping off the captain and from him Senator Lewis as to what he was up to. That left just him, though he wasn’t entirely alone.

He tucked himself up against the back of Kincaid’s car, out of sight of the house and dialed Sylvester.

“Did you find something, Inspector?” Sylvester asked, not even bothering with a greeting.

“You were right, Hunter’s here. Can you get this tablet you gave me to monitor?”

“Sound and video, inspector. Why?”

“I need you to set it up. You’re my backup, and I want you listening in.”

Corbett listened to the silence on the other end of the phone.

“That’ll do it, inspector. I’m getting audio and video, but you’re going to have to point the tablet’s camera at whatever you want me to record. I can still hear everything, though.”

“Good,” Corbett said. “I want you listening until I tell you I’m done. If things go sideways, call it in, then get out. Do what you have to do to make sure they don’t come after you, too.”

“I got your back, Inspector,” Sylvester said and then cut the connection.

Corbett tucked the phone away and started walking towards the house again, keeping himself out of sight of the main windows, still cautious. A stray breeze blew from the house and brought with it the scent of cigarette smoke.

Corbett looked up at the porch again and didn’t see any of the telltale glow that would tell of someone smoking. Satisfied that Hunter wasn’t outside waiting for him, he hurried across the open space to the porch and pressed himself up against the wall.

A glance through the window told him that the lights were off in the house, though he could still make out the blood stains on the floor inside.

Movement caught his eye when he looked through the next window. This one looked through the entire house to the sliding glass door at the back, and from there out onto the patio by the pool. He could discern the silhouette of a man sitting in one of the pool chairs, and the dim orange spot against the figure’s hand told him that he’d found the source of the cigarette smoke.

As he watched, the figure lifted the cigarette to his mouth. The orange spot flared brighter and the figure took a deep breath, then slowly blew the smoke out. The hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette rested in the figure’s lap, hidden from Corbett’s view.

Corbett frowned, remembering the layout of the house. The front door opened almost directly into a line of sight to the pool. Hunter would hear him right away opening that door, and it would give him a clear firing line right through the open areas of the house. The same problem presented itself when he thought about the windows. The safest way to approach would be from the side of the house. He remembered that there was a gate he could get through on the near side.

His mind made up, he stood away from the wall and walked off the porch and around the side of the house. The gate was right where he remembered it, and it opened quietly. He left it hanging open and pressed his back against the wall, and then peered around the corner.

The wavy lights filtering out of the pool illuminated the figure’s face. It was the face that had looked out of his tablet many times while he was looking over the case files. Hunter’s face was focused on the pool and he wasn’t paying any attention to anything else around him, seemingly transfixed by the waves lapping at the concrete edge. The legs of the chair rested just a few inches away from the blood pool that still remained from where Amanda Brighton’s body had laid.

He took another drag on the cigarette and moved a little in the chair, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter and with the movement, Corbett could see the tears shining in the hollows of his eyes. Puffy bags were starkly evident under his eyes and the sound of a choking sob could be heard over the quiet whirring of the pool filter.

Corbett watched for another moment, and then carefully drew his tablet from its holster. He knew from experience that the camera and microphone would be able to hear everything he said from over a couple hundred feet away. He propped the tablet up against the wall so that it had a good line of sight with Hunter in his chair.

Satisfied that his initial feeling was correct about him not wanting to harm anyone, Corbett stepped out from around the corner with his gun held loosely in his hand by his side. He wanted to present the least threatening stance he could while still being ready.

“Hunter?” he called softly. “Hunter Lewis?”

The boy jerked himself to his feet and whirled to face Corbett.

“Stay back!” he shouted, lifting a hand cannon of a revolver to point it at Corbett.

Corbett raised his free hand in a placating gesture, leaving the other hand at his side. Nothing he did betrayed the hard and fast pounding of his heart. He’d had guns pointed at him in the past, and every time it inspired the same reaction Nothing he could do would make the barrel look any smaller, so he tore his eyes from it and looked into Hunter’s trying to forge a connection between the two of them.

“Just relax, Hunter,” Corbett said in the calmest voice he could manage.

“Relax?!” Hunter cried, “How the fuck am I going to relax? You’re one of my father’s goons. Bought and paid for!”

“Listen to me, Hunter,” Corbett said, keeping his voice low and even, “I’m not your father’s man.”

“Bullshit! He brags around the house how he bought you off! A car and a bag of cash.” Hunter spit viciously at Corbett’s face. “You’re just another of my dad’s two dollar whores. Give you a little sugar and you’ll just lay right down and suck his cock for all you’re worth won’t you?”

Corbett flinched at the vehemence coming off the young man. There were many things that he was expecting, but this didn’t even make the bottom of the list.

“Hunter, slow down a second,” Corbett said, a pleading tone coming into his voice. “Your father threatened to kill my wife and daughter.”

Hunter lowered the gun just a touch at that, but then lifted it right back up. “Doesn’t matter. He still got to you. You’re here to take me back.”

“I’m not here to take you anywhere, Hunter,” Corbett said. “I’m just here to talk to you. Your father wouldn’t let me ask you any questions.”

Corbett slowly moved his gun towards his holster. “I’m going to put my gun away. You can keep yours wherever you want.”

The leather hissed softly as the metal slid against it and when it was seated, Corbett snapped the strap around it and let his hand rest again by his side.

“Tell me what happened, Hunter.”

Hunter lowered the gun to his side and let it dangle from his fingers and Corbett relaxed just a little. The adrenaline was still pumping through his system, and his heart was still beating like mad in his ears, but he could focus more on Hunter than on the gun now. When Hunter turned and sat himself back in the chair, he relaxed just a little more, though he stayed precisely where he was.

“I killed them. Every one of them.”

The sound of despair in Hunter’s voice almost drove Corbett to reach out to him. He knew the sound of pain, and he was a father above everything else. At that moment, he wanted to comfort the young man, and he had to remind himself that he was talking to someone that had killed seven people.

“Why, Hunter?” Corbett asked.

“The guys at school gave me this stuff. I was talking to them about me and Caitlin. Told them how much I wanted to get with her again. Things started turning nasty. One of them told me how he’d drugged his girlfriend to get into her pants.”

Hunter paused and watched the waves for a moment while his hands fidgeted on his lap with the gun.

“He gave me some of the stuff that he used, and something else, too. He said it was Vitamin C, that it would make it fantastic. I just thought that’s what it was. I didn’t know what it really was.”

Corbett frowned. He already knew what Hunter had done to Kincaid, but he had the picture in his head of the drug addict that just wanted to get high again. He hadn’t considered the fact that he might have been tricked into taking it, some college prank gone horribly wrong.

“You didn’t know what you were doing, Hunter.”

“Yeah, I did. I knew everything I was doing. I couldn’t stop! I wanted it. Every time I stabbed one of them, it was more intense than anything else. Like I was fucking Caitlin again and again, every time.”

Hunter’s voice caught and he paused to compose himself a little further before he continued.

“And when I came down, my father’s men were in the house. I couldn’t move at all, I was so tired. I knew they were there to clean it all up, make it go away. My father couldn’t allow me to be to be an embarrassment.”

“Why not Caitlin, Hunter? Why didn’t you kill her?”

“I couldn’t. Not even then. She was everything that I had. When she left, I couldn’t figure out what went wrong, and I thought that I might be able to talk her into coming back to me, and maybe I could get her to feel what we had before, and she’d love me again.”

Hunter’s body shook with a series of sobs and he lowered his head to his chest. Corbett stayed rooted in place, trying to sort out his frenzied thoughts.

“And now she’s condemned, because of me. I saw Davis putting the knife in her hand, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

Hunter’s face twisted into a grimace of rage and his hand tightened around the handle of the revolver. “It’s MY fault! They’re going to shoot her like a dog, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“You can still stop it, Hunter. Come with me and let’s tell your side. Don’t let Caitlin die because of you or your father.”

“You think I’m that stupid, inspector?” Hunter spat the last word with so much contempt that Corbett felt slapped. “I know you’re under father’s thumb. I go with you, and you’re going to take me upstate somewhere.”

He raised the gun again and waved it at Corbett.

“No. This is the only way. I have to pay for it, and when it’s over, maybe I’ll see her again.”

Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. With an angry flash of his hand, he threw it at Corbett.

“You’re just going to find it anyway, so I’ll save you the trouble.”

Corbett looked down at the paper as it hit the deck, taking his eyes off Hunter for only a moment and when he looked back up, Hunter had the gun pressed to his temple.

“No!” Corbett shouted as he leapt for Hunter.

He was too far away and by the time he’d crossed even half the distance between them, Hunter pulled the trigger. There would never be any question about how quickly he’d died, the large caliber round opened a hole bigger than Corbett’s fist on the other side of his head.

Corbett reached Hunter’s body moments after it began to slump down in the chair, and he gently eased it to the ground as the last echoes of the gunshot filtered through the trees. Seconds later, his phone vibrated against his leg. He knew without looking who it was.

“Jesus, Inspector,” Sylvester’s breathless voice came through the phone when he answered.

“Tell me you were recording,” Corbett said as he let go of Hunter’s body and stood up.

“Got every last bit of it, Inspector. Think it’ll be enough?”

“Between that and Amine’s confession, it’s definitely enough.”

“What about Hunter?” Sylvester asked.

“Give me fifteen minutes and then call it in. Concerned neighbor heard the gunshots or something.”

“You got it. What else do you need?”

“Think you can wake up the magistrate for me?”

“Inspector, I can have his house turn into one giant alarm clock if I have to. Get going, and I’ll take care of things.”

Corbett hung up the phone and walked back to the crumpled piece of paper on the patio. With still-shaking hands, he reached down, picked it up and unfurled it.

> Dearest Caitlin –
> 
> There is no way that I could tell you how sorry I am. It’s because of me that you’re going to die, and there’s nothing I can do to stop that. I killed Amanda and the others. They’ll try to say that it was the drugs that made me do it, but I think there was always something inside that wanted to let loose like I did. It makes me sick to finally be honest and say that I enjoyed it.
> 
> I know there is no reason for you to forgive me, Cait, but if anyone can, I know that you can. If you ever get this, know that I did what I could to tell people the truth.
> 
> To whomever is reading this –
> 
> My name is Hunter Lewis, and I am the guilty one. I murdered Amanda Brighton and six other people in this house. I was high on C and I stabbed them until they were dead. Then I carried Caitlin Kincaid downstairs where I was not able to kill her. I drugged Caitlin in order to have sex with her, and she was unconscious at the time of the killings.
> 
> I’m signing this in my hand in the hopes that it will save Caitlin’s life.
> 
> Hunter Lewis

Corbett read the note and when he was finished, he folded it neatly and tucked it into his pocket. With the recording, the note, and the signed confession from the doc, he had enough to convince just about anyone.

He picked up his tablet as he walked back around the house to his car. When the gate was disappearing behind him down the dirt road, he finally let himself hope. Now it just remained to be seen if the magistrate was in Lewis’ pocket, too.


	29. Chapter 29

“I managed to get ahold of someone over in the magistrate’s office, Inspector, and they told me that I was out of luck for the night unless I was looking for a warrant,” Sylvester said over the car’s speakers.

The drive back into the city always took longer than he was expecting, and Corbett had gotten the call about the time he hit the city proper.

“I take it that you didn’t let a little thing like that stop you?” he chided.

“Not on your life, Inspector. I tracked through the system and I found the magistrate’s home number. I haven’t called it yet, though.”

“Waiting for me to do the dirty work?”

“Well, you are the senior officer. I think it should be you who does the honor.”

“Fine, but you get to dial. I’m driving.”

“Standby,” Sylvester said. There was a click on the line and the speakers went silent, then a second later, they came back on to the sound of the phone ringing.

“All yours, Inspector. I’ll be listening.”

Corbett grumbled something about Sylvester being a coward, but low enough that the microphone couldn’t pick it up. He wouldn’t be surprised if the other officer heard it anyway.

“This is Lanza,” a voice answered after only two rings.

“Magistrate Lanza?” Corbett asked. Might as well make sure that he was speaking to the right person.

“Who’s this?” Lanza asked. Corbett could hear the gruff temper in his voice.

Magistrate Edward Lanza had the reputation of being one of the harsher magistrates in the justice system, but he also was impeccably fair minded. He was the one that the inspectors wanted to get when their case was rock solid, because he was the one that would throw everything that he possibly could at the guilty party. But he was also the one that none of the inspectors wanted if there was even a hint of a hole in their evidence, because they’d find themselves right in front of his desk trying to defend themselves while he poked the hole bigger and bigger.

“Magistrate, this is Richard Corbett,” Corbett answered.

Lanza was silent for a moment, and Corbett watched the road as it turned the final corner to merge with the freeway that would take him directly to the city center. He was almost at the point that he would have to pull over or risk a wreck in the always-heavy traffic on the freeway.

“Corbett,” Lanza repeated, “You were on the Kincaid case.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Damn fine job getting everything in so quickly. Smoothest case we’ve had in a while.”

Corbett flinched when he said that and he gathered his thoughts. He didn’t want to come off sounding the least bit weak in what he needed to say next.

“Actually, sir, that’s what I’m calling to talk to you about. There’s new evidence.”

Another pause on the line met the declaration and Corbett finally decided to pull over rather than risk splitting his attention.

“What new evidence, Corbett? The case is closed,” Lanza finally said.

Despite the finality of the words, Corbett could hear the curiosity in the magistrate’s voice.

“It’s going to be easier to show you than to tell you over the phone, sir. Can I come to the justice center?”

“No, I’m not there. I’m at home. Can it wait until morning?”

“I don’t think so, sir. I think you’re going to want to see this as soon as you can.”

Corbett looked at the clock on the display. He hadn’t realized how late it was. In only a few more minutes, it wouldn’t be evening any more, but morning.

“Kincaid’s a career maker, Corbett. With everything else you did for the case, I’d have to say that you’ve earned a meeting. I’ll put some coffee on and we can talk. 430 Headland Drive.”

Corbett did a quick calculation. The magistrate lived on the far side of the city, out along the other growth boundary, almost exactly opposite the Brightons’ house. It would take him over half an hour of driving if traffic even cooperated.

“I’ll be there as quick as I can. Forty minutes, give or take,” Corbett said.

“Perfect time for coffee and scotch. Better be worth it, Corbett.”

The line clicked and Sylvester’s voice came back on.

“That really wasn’t what I was expecting,” Sylvester said.

“He’s probably used to people waking him up in the middle of the night for search warrants. It’s not like they have time to wait,” Corbett replied.

“Yeah, you think he’s going to listen?”

“The one thing everyone has to say about his is that he’s fair. He’s the last magistrate in the state that I’d ever expect Lewis to get to,” Corbett said. “He’d have done something much more apparent.”

“This is the Lewis kid we’re talking about. Do you really think that Lewis didn’t lean on him?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Corbett pulled back onto the road and a few minutes later was driving down the freeway across the town. Traffic was lighter than normal this time of night, and he made good time. It helped that he didn’t have to take any complicated routes. About halfway there, the phone rang again. The readout on the car dashboard read all zeroes, and his heart thumped heavily in his chest. He suspected it wouldn’t take all that long for Lewis’ bought-off officers to notice that his wife and daughter weren’t where they were supposed to be. He was surprised that it took them this long to call him.

There wasn’t anything to be gained by answering the phone, and he risked giving away more than he wanted if he started talking, so he let it ring until the call was forwarded to his voicemail. A few seconds later the message light in the corner of his screen lit up and a polite tone informed him that he had a message.

He kept driving and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, hoping that Sylvester did a better job of rewiring the bugs in the car. The gun on his hip was starting to become a more welcome presence by the minute. Lewis couldn’t know what he was doing, though he might already know about Hunter’s fate.

It didn’t take Corbett much time to find the magistrate’s house, tucked up in a gated neighborhood with its back porch abutting one of the city’s finer golf courses.

When he pulled into the driveway, the porch light came on and the door opened. Even out of his official dress and relaxed in his home, the magistrate was an imposing figure standing in the door. Corbett turned off the engine and got out of the car, trying to still his breathing. Coming off as an eager rookie wouldn’t be in his best interest.

As calmly as he could manage, with carefully measured steps that he hoped conveyed confidence that he didn’t feel, he walked to the front door. Magistrate Lanza was just an inch or two taller than Corbett, but he was a few inches wider at the shoulders, and he had physique that said he was as interested in his health as he was in justice.

“Magistrate,” Corbett said in greeting with an outstretched hand.

“Corbett, it’s past midnight and this is my house. You call me Ed, and I’ll call you Richard. Unless you prefer ‘Dick,’” Lanza said with a friendly smile.

“Ed, then, and Richard is fine. Thank you for seeing me, and I’m sorry about the hour.”

“Don’t worry about it, Richard. I’m usually up later than this. The wife thinks that I should go see a doctor about insomnia or something.”

Lanza stepped away from the door and motioned Corbett inside.

“I think it’s just a hazard of the job,” Lanza continued, shutting the door behind him when Corbett crossed into the house.

“When I made inspector, my training officer told me that if you don’t lose sleep on some of your cases, you’re doing something wrong, or you were dead inside and you needed to call it quits,” Corbett said as he followed Lanza into the living room.

The room was done in tasteful colors and had the warmth of a room well used. A small fireplace in the corner added to the dim illumination with its own warm, flickering light, and it gave off the smell of burning pine along with the light. Along the walls, Corbett could see framed photos of Lanza with different important people. The chief of police, the mayor, the governor; almost all the higher ups in the state.

“He was a wise man,” Lanza said with a smile.

He motioned Corbett to take a seat on one of the two leather sofas in the living room. There was a coffee service sitting on the coffee table with two steaming cups of coffee sitting on the tray. Beside the coffee pot was a glass decanter filled most of the way with an amber liquid.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, Richard, so doctor away.”

Corbett smiled and took the nearest cup. He didn’t add anything, just drank the hot, dark and bitter coffee black.

“I kind of figured you for the black coffee kind of guy. Most of the inspectors are, but there are a few that put more sugar than you’d ever think possible in their drinks. I worry about them sometimes.”

Lanza chuckled and picked up his own cup. Corbett noticed that he didn’t put anything in his either.

“It’s just simpler black,” Corbett responded.

“Well said,” Lanza said with a tilt of his head. “Simplicity is very rarely overrated.”

Lanza took a drink of his coffee and then leaned back against the sofa.

“So what’s got you losing sleep over the Kincaid case, Corbett?” he asked after a moment.

Corbett took a deep breath.

“I need to recant my investigatory report, Magistrate,” he said finally, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

But Lanza didn’t explode as Corbett feared. The magistrate merely looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip of his coffee. For a time, he didn’t speak, just regarded the inspector with deep green eyes, and as Corbett looked at the man, he realized just how wizened he really looked, especially here in his home.

“I see,” Lanza finally said. He paused again and put his cup back on the tray.

“Let me tell you something, Richard,” Lanza said as he leaned back against the chair back again. “You’re not the first person to sit here and tell me that. Every single inspector that’s ever had a case in front of me sits right there where you are at some point and he tells me the same thing.”

Corbett must have looked shocked because Lanza laughed and continued, “Yes, every single one, unless they’re new.”

Lanza laughed again, the quiet sound sounding louder than it probably was in the darkened quiet of the house.

“I have to admit that I was starting to wonder when you were going to end up here. You’ve made it the longest of any of the other inspectors. I’ve seen enough of your reports cross my desk that I’m pretty sure I know why you haven’t been here before.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mag- Ed,” Corbett caught himself at the last minute, trying to adhere to Lanza’s wishes.

“You’ve never been the kind of person that puts what you suspect in a report and then gives me only the facts that support what you want to have happen, Richard. I know if it has your name on it, it’s a full report. Even the facts that are inconvenient, you put in there. You’re as dedicated to justice as I am.”

Corbett couldn’t say how much those words hurt him, hearing them come from the magistrate. When he looked back on his time as an inspector, he was one of the few inspectors that didn’t mind pulling Lanza. He never worried about being torn apart by the man because he’d done all the tearing apart already. He’d taken the scalpel to his own reports and made sure that they were as complete, detailed, and accurate as he could make them. If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he looked up to Lanza.

“That means a lot, sir,” Corbett said quietly.

“I knew you’d be here eventually, though, Richard. It’s human nature to want to be right, and eventually everyone succumbs to it.”

Corbett shook his head and lowered his eyes to his cup.

“That’s not the problem, sir,” he said. “This isn’t about me, not directly.”

“Tell me what it’s about then,” Lanza prodded.

“I need to know something, first, Ed,” Corbett said as he lifted his eyes from the coffee cup again. “I need to know how well you know Senator Lewis.”

Lanza frowned and Corbett couldn’t help but prepare himself for a tirade. He didn’t want to come right out and ask if Lewis had bribed him, or if he was on the senator’s payroll, but he had to know before he started laying things out.

“It’s interesting that you mention Lewis, Richard. He’s been pestering my office for copies of everything relating to the Kincaid case. I understand that his son was one of the kids at the party that night, and that he left early.”

Corbett considered for a moment how to answer. Either Lanza really wasn’t on the senator’s payroll, or he was being very coy about it. He hadn’t come this far, though, to back down at the last minute, so with a breath, he started in.

“Yes, Hunter Lewis was one of the visitors at the Brighton residence,” Corbett said. “But he didn’t leave early.”

“Something tells me this is going to be a long conversation that I don’t want to have, Richard,” Lanza said.

“I can’t let Kincaid die to avoid an uncomfortable situation, sir,” Corbett said as he pulled his tablet from his coat.

“Senator Lewis approached me at the beginning of my investigation and told me to make sure Kincaid was convicted. He threatened to kill my family if I didn’t. The report that was filed with your office was false. I wrote it so that everything would point to her. But I can’t live with myself knowing that I did that, and knowing that Caitlin Kincaid is going to die for my mistake.”

Lanza listened with calm interest, letting Corbett speak, and when he stopped, the magistrate took the time to pour two glasses of scotch from the decanter on the table. Corbett felt a little strange sitting there silently waiting for Lanza to respond.

The magistrate handed a glass to Corbett and took one for himself.

“I can tell you’re waiting for me to ream you up the wall, Corbett, and you can relax. You’re a smart man, and you’ve thought about this. I’m just going to tell you this because I feel I have to. You know that I can’t do anything about the shit storm you’re going to bring down on yourself, right?”

“I know that, sir. My family’s out of the line of fire, and there’s nothing else that I can do to mitigate it.”

“As long as you understand that,” Lanza said. Then he sat up and held out his hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Corbett handed over the tablet. Sylvester had queued up the surveillance footage from the hospital first, showing the doctor with his stepdaughter.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to bust Amine for a year now, Corbett. Some of his lab reports just didn’t mesh, but there wasn’t anything I could find.”

“The real lab results are here, along with a signed confession of what he did,” Corbett said, handing the envelope to Lanza.

The magistrate took the envelope and looked through the papers, reading every word of the confession and looking through all of the corrected results.

“No C,” he remarked. “But it looks like she was drugged. That would be why she doesn’t remember what happened.”

“Hunter Lewis drugged her and raped her, sir.”

Lanza shook his head and then flipped through to the next video on the tablet, showing what transpired at the Brighton house. He watched it all the way through, not even flinching when the gunshot sounded.

“I see,” was all he said before he laid the tablet on his lap.

“You’ve got me convinced, Corbett,” Lanza said after a minute. “I’m going to need a sworn statement from you saying that you falsified the police report. I’ll file that and the evidence here and then I’ll vacate the charges on Kincaid.”

Lanza took another gulp of the scotch and then looked across the table to Corbett once again.

“A word of advice, though, Richard, if you’ll take it. Lewis is not someone to cross lightly. My advice to you is to put your badge on my table here with your confession. You’ll have some time before it all gets made public, and you can take that time to get as far away from the city as you can.”

Corbett nodded.

“If you don’t mind waiting just a few minutes for that statement, sir, I’ll arrange my ride.”

Lanza smiled and nodded back.

“Corbett, for the stuff you just gave me, you can take all the time you need. I’m going to go over there for a while, just come get me when you’re ready.”

Lanza stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Corbett alone in the living room.

“Get ahold of the two three, my friend,” he said when he’d dialed and connected to Sylvester. He was careful not to put any names in the conversation for fear that even the magistrate’s house was bugged.

“You got it,” Sylvester answered. “What’s the plan?”

“The senator was nice enough to give us a fast car, so I say we use it. The tools in the trunk might come in handy later, too. I’ll be at the house when I’m done, and we can take a road trip.”

“See you soon, inspector.”

Corbett frowned at the smug and pleased note in Sylvester’s voice and he was about to call the other officer on it, but the click on the other end beat him to it and all he could do was growl into the phone.

With calm and controlled hands, he set the phone down on the coffee table, then pulled the tablet Lanza had left behind towards him. It took all his composure to write the statement that he knew he needed to write.

When it was finally done, he read it again, and then for a third time, until the words were etched into his brain. These were the words that were going to end his career and have him looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. These were the words that were going to make him a hunted man. With a deep sigh, he reached down to the screen and pressed his finger against the reader, signing the letter with his fingerprint. It was an indelible way of saying that he was no longer trustworthy enough to be a cop.

And then it was done. He laid the tablet on the table next to the phone and then pulled his badge off his belt. He held it in his hand, feeling the cold metal against his fingers, remembering how proud he was when he’d earned that badge. He’d worked so hard for the one word, ‘Inspector,’ that was emblazoned across the top of the badge. He frowned and then set it softly beside the other two pieces of equipment. The last thing to be left was his sidearm. The department had issued it, and he didn’t want to be an actual fugitive for stealing it, when he was so careful to leave everything just so. He didn’t want even the slightest hint that he was unscrupulous to taint the case.

Quietly, he stood and walked through the door he saw Lanza walking through. On the other side, he found himself in a tastefully decorated kitchen, and at the far end, Lanza stood, staring out the window into the precisely manicured back lawn. He turned when he heard the door opening and met Corbett’s eyes.

“Thank you, Corbett. You have more balls than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I still fucked up, sir.”

“Yes, but you had every reason to do what you had to do. The police need someone like you on the force, and it’s a shame that you pulled this case, but I admire what you’re doing. There’s not many people who would do what you’re doing in your shoes.”

“Most people don’t have my friends, sir,” Corbett said quietly.

“I don’t want to know more, Richard. This is deep enough as it is. You left your stuff?”

“Yes, sir. It’s all on the table.”

“Then get out of here. Tell Lenny to watch his back.” A ghost of a smile lit the magistrate’s face at the look of surprise on Corbett’s.

Corbett wanted to say something, but Lanza just shook his head. Without another word, the former inspector turned and walked out of the kitchen and then out of the house, leaving behind everything that had so consumed his life for as long as he could remember.

When he slid behind the wheel of the car again, though, there was a light to his thoughts. There was hope that he and his wife and his daughter might be able to live a halfway normal life, and that he would be able to continue on.

With that hope in mind, he pulled out of the driveway and headed for the house where Sylvester, his partner, was waiting for him. When he got there, Sylvester was waiting for him at the front door with two large range bags in his hands.

Sylvester threw the bags in the trunk and then hopped in beside Corbett with a smile.

“Let’s go, then,” he said. Corbett could hear the excitement in his voice.

“Just like that, huh? Don’t you have to resign or something?” Corbett asked.

“I left my badge and my gun on my desk before I left. I knew I wasn’t coming back, inspector.”

“I’m not an inspector any more, Sylvester,” Corbett said in his gruff voice.

“Then I’ll call you Ricky.”

“Only if I can call you Lenny,” Corbett said, letting the smile finally reach his lips.

“Deal. Drive us out of here, Ricky.”

Corbett laughed and hit the gas, driving towards the freeway. From there, it was open road out of the city and out to the mountains where his family was waiting for him. He couldn’t stop himself from checking the rear view mirror, nor could he help the adrenaline reaction every time he saw the same car more than once. It would be a while before he would be able to look around without suspicion, without paranoia.

He took comfort in watching Sylvester doing the same thing as they drove.


	30. Chapter 30

The world exploded in pain once again as Sinclair’s hand connected with Caitlin’s face. She curled herself into a ball on the grass and tried to bring her hands up to cover her head against the onslaught. The orange light of the courtyard illuminated everything in the night with its eerie glow and she shut her eyes against it, trying to block out what was happening.

It had only been a few hours that she’d been left alone, and then Sinclair had come through the door. He was dressed in his uniform, but he didn’t have his belt with him. There was nothing on him that she could grab or otherwise use to defend herself, and she knew that he’d planned it that way. Everything about the way that he was doing things spoke to him being proficient at taking advantage of the condemned.

As she pulled her hands up to shield her head, she felt Sinclair’s hands on the collar of the robe, pulling the front apart without even bothering to untie the belt that was still wrapped tightly around her waist. She was torn between keeping her hands at her head or trying to stop him from disrobing her completely. The urge to defend herself finally won out and she reached down to wrap her hands around Sinclair’s big wrists.

She realized quickly how much of a mistake that was. As she tightened her grip on his wrists, his booted foot connected hard with her side, sending a wave of concussive pain through the rest of her body. She cried out in pain and wriggled herself into a position away from the assault. It hurt everywhere every time she moved, and now it even hurt to breathe.

The kick had done what it was meant to, though, and Sinclair took advantage of the moment of slackness in her muscles. His rough and strong hands quickly pulled the belt free from around her waist and before she could react, he pulled her arms above her head, forcing them against the pole.

She felt the fabric of the belt pressing against her wrists and the cold metal against the back of her hands and in a last, desperate attempt to stop Sinclair from forcing himself on her, she kicked out blindly with one powerful leg.

Sinclair yelled in anger and pain as her foot connected between his legs with all the force she could muster. She didn’t have time to feel anything, though, before his hand crashed down against her face again. Stars exploded behind her eyes as his fist forced her head back against the concrete that held the pole aloft. Everything took on a blurry tone when she opened her eyes, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood against her lips and the side of her head.

She looked around through dazed eyes and barely recognized Sinclair standing over her. The ringing in her ears partially covered the guard’s sadistic laugh, and she finally noticed that nothing hurt any longer. Where once it hurt to breathe or move, there was nothing but the fuzzy feeling in her head. She couldn’t focus on anything long enough to feel any sensation at all.

She was vaguely aware of the rough robe parting in the front and the cool night air blowing across her bare skin. Something in the back of her mind told her that she should be fighting, that she was in trouble, but nothing made it all the way to the front of her brain long enough for her to do anything about it. Even the fear that had permeated its way through her over the last few hours was gone. It was peaceful, and she didn’t want to go back.

When her eyes tracked back to Sinclair’s face, she could see the anger still there, but there was something else. There was fear. As if she was watching a movie, all the scenes that she remembered of Lilly sitting at the pole came back to her, and she remembered that she had never once seen the girl bruised or bloody. She realized that Sinclair had crossed a line, and he knew it. Despite the growing concern about her inability to feel anything, she found the energy to smile at him.

Sinclair drew back his hand and slapped her face again, but this time it was much lighter, to the point that all she felt as a little pressure as his hand connected.

“Time to wake up, little pussy. Daddy Bear is going to make you scream,” he said. Caitlin almost didn’t hear him over the rushing in her ears.

She didn’t fight as he reached down and spread the rough cloth all the way off her front, leaving her nude and open to the guard’s view. She didn’t have the energy any longer and she felt the darkness closing in at the edges. There was a slight worry in the back of her mind about how much damage the big guard had done to her with that last hit, but it was a vague worry, something that she couldn’t bring to the front.

She let her head roll to the side and the world blurred further. At the very edge of her hearing she heard someone shouting. She couldn’t make out the words, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. All she wanted was to sink into the quiet darkness that was quickly overtaking her.

She could hear Sinclair shouting something, and it caught her attention that his voice was very different from the voice that was yelling first. Sinclair sounded angry, and the other voice sounded emphatic, authoritative. There was something familiar about that other voice, too.

“Momma Bear,” she managed to mutter when she recognized the voice. She didn’t know if Orfeo could hear her, and she knew that her Momma Bear wouldn’t be coming to save her.

But just before the darkness took her, she saw something moving fast from the corner of her vision and with a shouted curse, Sinclair’s weight was off her. Her eyes closed, and her ears brought her the sound of a struggle with more yelling.

It quieted and everything inside her mind calmed. _Is this it?_ she wondered. If it was, she wasn’t worried. She sank further into the darkness.

The last thing she felt before she lost consciousness completely was her collar being yanked roughly and the metal falling away from her neck.

\-------------------------------

She awoke screaming and tried to sit up. The pain that the movement brought with it tore an anguished cry from her lips and she lay back down with a whimper. She opened her eyes and whimpered even louder. The bright lights in the room felt like they were searing a hole through her skull. Everything about her hurt. She’d swear later that even the very tips of her hair hurt.

She moaned again and tried to roll over, but a soft and gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Easy there, girl,” came a familiar voice.

Caitlin eased her eyes open a little once again, careful not to open them too far. The figure in front of her was blurry while her eyes adjusted but eventually came into focus.

“Momma Bear,” Caitlin said, in wonder at her hoarse voice. Her words were barely a whisper and even that hurt more than she wanted to admit.

“Yeah,” Orfeo said with a small smile. “Don’t move too much. The doctor says you’re going to be okay, but he doesn’t want you thrashing.”

Caitlin laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes again, sighing in relief when the light was blocked again.

“Doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “Going back.”

“No, Caitlin,” Orfeo said. Her voice was husky and quiet and the tone had Caitlin opening her eyes again. She could hear the tears behind Orfeo’s words. “You’re not going back.”

Caitlin wiggled her fingers and tried to move her hands. To her shock, they moved easily and there wasn’t a trace of restraint. There were no handcuffs, and though she could still almost feel the horrible touch of the belt at her wrists, it wasn’t there in reality.

Then she opened her eyes the rest of the way and looked down her body. She was in a simple hospital gown. The white robe, that hated rough fabric, was gone.

“Inspector Corbett found new evidence, Caitlin,” Orfeo said when Caitlin settled back down. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t kill anyone.”

“Who-“ Caitlin started to ask.

“Lay still, girl. Just rest.”

Orfeo’s hand was cool on her forehead, gently laying against one of the only places that didn’t hurt. A small smile crossed her face when she heard Orfeo start to hum a soft, slow tune. She recognized it as the same lullaby that she’d sung to Lilly when she was treating her at the pole. A part of her wanted to ask what the melody was, but the rest of her just wanted to lay still and listen to it. For some reason, here in this place, it brought her comfort.

“Stay with me, Momma Bear,” she whispered. Her voice was pleading and even she could hear the fear still there behind the words.

“I’m not going anywhere, girl. Just sleep.”

Caitlin drifted off to the sound of Orfeo’s lullaby and the feeling of her rough hand gently stroking her head.

\--------------------------------

When Caitlin awoke next, there was a different hand in hers. It was softer and more delicate than Orfeo’s. She slowly opened her eyes, noticing for the first time the prongs of plastic held against her nose and the cool flow of oxygen into her nostrils. She took a breath and hen her eyes focused, she found herself looking at her sister, tucked neatly into a chair next to her bed, breathing evenly with her own eyes closed.

“Sarah,” she whispered.

Sarah jumped and looked over at Caitlin and then smiled.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Cait,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She pulled her hand from Caitlin’s and stood up. It hurt too much for Caitlin to move her head, so she just stared at the empty seat, trying to figure out how her sister was there with her. Before she could think too hard about that question, Sarah was back, and she’d brought other people with her. Caitlin turned her head to the side and her vision blurred with tears the moment she saw her mother and her father.

“Hi, angel,” her father said as he reached down to pet her head.

“Daddy.” The one word carried everything that she wanted to say.

“The magistrate pardoned him, too,” Orfeo said from the doorway. “He said that a man shouldn’t be in prison for defending his innocent daughter.”

Caitlin couldn’t speak, there was too much going on inside her head. She just lay there and looked at her family as the tears streamed down her face.

“When the doctor says you’re okay, you’re going to be coming home,” Jeremy said to his daughter. “For now, just rest. We’ll all be here as long as it takes.”

Caitlin nodded, still crying. She managed to reach out one hand to her father and he took it in his big, strong one, then covered it with his other hand. She laid there for hours until she finally drifted off again to sleep, safe with her father watching over her again.


	31. Epilogue

Caitlin sat on the couch in the warm beam of sunlight that filtered through the living room window. The bandages were finally off, and the stitches had come out. She was healing nicely, at least on the physical side.

The nightmares still came, and she wasn’t able to leave the house without a sense of panic and dread descending upon her, but she was getting better. the therapist they’d given her when she left the prison was helping in leaps and bounds.

She’d still been in the infirmary the night that Poppy had been executed, and she still awoke some nights to the haunting melody that the girls sang, her dreams telling her that the song was being sung for her.

The television was on, and she sat transfixed, staring at the screen. There was no sound, but she didn’t need it. The screen showed shaky footage of Senator Lewis being led out of the capitol building by his attorneys, trying to dodge the cameras and the newsies that were likely shouting questions at him about the scandal involving his son.

They’d come and camped out on the Kincaids’ front lawn for a time until the day Orfeo had come to visit. One word with the reporters and they’d scattered like mice in her wake. Caitlin’s mother had baked cookies for the older guard for that.

Today the newsies were gone, but the world was engrossed in the enfolding scandal. With Hunter dead and the footage Corbett had released, there was no question about the outcome of the Senator’s trial, but Caitlin felt strangely numb. With all that had happened, she still felt Hunter’s loss in her heart. She’d loved him despite everything he’d done. She didn’t understand how she could loathe him with all her being and yet still miss him.

He was gone, though, and he wasn’t coming back. He’d paid for what he’d done by his own hand. She almost envied him that. He took the easy way out and she was still here, dealing with what Sinclair had done to her.

She took comfort in the fact that Sinclair had been both dismissed and tried for what he’d done to Caitlin. Even with the condemned, there were apparently limits to what could be done. He’d crossed them. Orfeo had told her the last time she’d visited that even when he was let out of his prison sentence, he wouldn’t be working anywhere in the city ever again.

The news switched away from Senator Lewis and a familiar face appeared on the screen. Caitlin turned the volume back up.

“…are still searching for Richard Corbett and Leonard Alexander. No formal charges have been made, but they continue to be regarded as persons of interest in the case. Anyone with information is urged to call the number on the screen.”

Caitlin smiled and turned off the television, then she stood and walked to the window to look out over the back yard.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pressed her hand to the glass. One day she hoped that she could talk to Corbett again but for now, this was the only thanks she could give.

She let her hand fall from the glass and then turned to walk into the kitchen where she could hear her father making pancakes for breakfast. A few steps brought her into the room, and when he saw her come in, he held her arms open for her.

Caitlin took the invitation and she cried once again as her father’s arms enfolded her. Nothing would ever erase what had happened, but she could finally rest, assured that her father would die before anything happened to her again.


End file.
